Harry Potter and the Traitors Blood
by Firebolt1982
Summary: It is Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts. He is struggling to come to terms with what has happened over the last few years, but this year is not going to get any easier! There is someone at Hogwarts who can not be trusted ...
1. Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

One cool and wet summers evening in a little house on Wisteria Walk, a small old lady and a skinny teenage boy were bustling around the kitchen.  The old lady was dishing out potatoes and chops onto two china dinner plates, while the teenage boy poured them both glasses of bright orange pumpkin juice.

Harry Potter would appear to most everyday people as a normal everyday teenage boy.  Most people would not realise that this tall, skinny sixteen year old boy with jet back, unkempt hair, was more than he first appeared.

Harry was a wizard.  He had learned this for himself at the tender age of eleven.  In that same summer he had also learned that his parents had been murdered by one of the darkest wizards there ever was, when Harry was only a baby.  Most wizards could not bear to speak, or even hear the name of this dark and evil wizard.  But Harry had survived the attack which had killed his parents, becoming famous in the wizarding world for something he could barely remember.  This encounter had destroyed Lord Voldemort's powers and reduced him to almost nothing, whilst Harry had been left with only a lightning-bolt shaped scar on his forehead as a constant reminder of his link with the Dark Lord.

Since becoming a student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Harry, along with his best friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, had managed to escape the almost powerless Lord Voldemort several times.  But in their fourth year, Harry alone had witnessed Voldemort's return to power and had narrowly escaped death yet again.  But he had spent most of his fifth year trying to convince the Ministry of Magic of what he had seen.  Finally, during another encounter just weeks ago, the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, saw Lord Voldemort with his own eyes.

It was such a relief to Harry that he was finally believed.  But it had come at a price.  During this last encounter Harry had witnessed the death of his godfather, Sirius Black.  Sirius had become a good friend to Harry and the closest thing to a father Harry had ever known.

It was with a heavy heart that Harry now sat down to dinner with Mrs Figg.  He had known the batty old woman for most of his life.  Harry had been brought up by his muggle (non-magic) aunt and uncle, the Dursley's, in nearby Privet Drive.  Mrs Figg had always looked after Harry whenever Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia decided to take their spoiled, overweight son, Dudley, to the movies, or to dinner, or to a football match, or to anywhere else he wanted to go.

But it was only last summer that Harry had discovered Mrs Figg to be a Squib - a person of wizard parentage who did not have the ability to perform magic.  This revelation had somewhat changed Harry's opinion of Mrs Figg.  He no longer saw her as an annoying old lady with more cats than brains, but as a companion, someone who understood him in some small way.

"Aren't you hungry, dear?" Mrs Figg mumbled through a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

"No, not really," Harry replied quietly, whilst absent-mindedly picking at his own potatoes with a fork, "Sorry, Mrs Figg, I'm just a bit ... tired.  Maybe I should be getting home."

He put down his fork and started to rise from the table, knocking Mr Tibbles off his lap.  The cat let out a sound of annoyance and streaked out of the kitchen.

"Oh before you go, I was meant to give you something," Mrs Figg got up from her chair, knocking another disgruntled cat to the floor, and shuffled across to the kitchen counter, "Dumbledore asked me to pass on a message ... now where did I put it?  I know I wrote it down somewhere."

"Dumbledore was here?" Harry asked.  He felt slightly disappointed to hear that his headmaster had been in Little Whinging and not bothered to visit him.

"Yes, well, he popped in for tea yesterday," replied Mrs Figg while still rummaging through the papers on the worktop, "Didn't stay long, but I guess he must be fairly busy these days."

Albus Dumbledore had been one of the few people to believe Harry's story about Voldemort's return.  Dumbledore has consequently suffered much grief from the Ministry of Magic.  Since the turn of events four weeks ago, the Ministry had been relying on Dumbledore more than ever before.

"Ah, here we go."

Mrs Figg handed Harry a small piece of parchment which looked as though it had been torn from a used envelope.  The writing was very messy and hard to read, but it simply said:

_The Leaky Cauldron, Thursday, __5 o'clock__.___

"Does this mean Dumbledore wants to meet with me?" Harry asked Mrs Figg, who was now rummaging through a kitchen drawer.

"Um, yes, I think so," replied Mrs Figg distractedly, "Can't remember what he said exactly, but I wrote down the time and place so I wouldn't forget it.  And I haven't forgotten something else, happy birthday Harry."

Mrs Figg handed Harry an envelope with his name on.  He opened it to find a small note card with a picture of a cat on it.  Inside was written in the same messy handwriting as the message from Dumbledore:

_Happy 16th Birthday, from Arrabella Figg xx_

"Thanks," said Harry, feeling a broad smile stretch across his face, "I was beginning to think no one would remember."

Harry walked back towards Privet Drive feeling slightly happier than he had done all summer.  He could feel the cool drops of light rain starting to fall on his face.  The weather this summer had been the complete opposite of last year, which had been very hot and dry.  This colder, wetter weather seemed to be reflecting the way Harry felt now that his godfather was gone.

Lost in his thoughts, Harry was surprised when he realised he had already arrived back at number four, Privet Drive.  He opened the door quietly and crept upstairs to his bedroom.  He could hear the sound of the television in the living room and every now and then his uncle's hearty laugh boomed up through the floor.

Harry lay quietly on his bed and stared up at the ceiling, which had become common practice for him over the last four weeks.  He did not seem to have the energy to read or do his homework, and there was no point writing a letter to his friends because he never had anything remotely interesting to write about.  He had received a couple of letters from Ron and Hermione, but they just said the usual:

_Quite a lot has happened here ... We can't say much in a letter ... I expect we'll see you soon ..._

But Harry had no intention of going to Grimmauld Place, the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix - a group of witches and wizards dedicated to fighting the Dark Lord.

Number twelve, Grimmauld Place, in London had belonged to Sirius Black.  Sirius had no descendants to pass the house on to, so everyone had naturally assumed that Sirius would have wanted Harry to take it.  But Harry had declined to accept.   He told the Order that they could continue to use the house as they wished, but that he, Harry, had no intention of ever living there.

As the sun set over Little Whinging, Harry became consumed by darkness.  Eventually the only light was the glowing orange of the street lamp outside, which streaked across the ceiling of Harry's room.

A large black shadow penetrated the orange glow, and Hedwig, Harry's snowy owl, swooped in through the open window.  She landed lightly beside Harry and dropped several letters onto his chest, before taking off again and flying straight back out of the window.  Hedwig did not spend much time around Harry these days, maybe because all he did was ignore her.

Harry sat up and opened the first letter.  He squinted at it in the darkness but did not bother to turn on the light.  The letter was written in Hermione's tidy handwriting:

_Dear Harry,_

_Have you had your results yet?  I got O's  for everything.  I'm so pleased!  Ron did great as well.  He got mostly E's and A's, and a P for Divination, but he did get an O for Defence Against the Dark Arts (all thanks to you!) and surprisingly and O for Potions!  He's still shocked about that one._

_Please let us know how you did.  But I bet you did brilliantly ..._

Harry had forgotten all about the OWL exam results.  They had taken their Ordinary Wizarding Level exams in June, and had been told to expect the results some time in July.  Harry shuffled through the other envelopes and found the one he was looking for - it was sealed with the Wizarding Exam Authority crest.  He ripped it open with a mixture of anxiety and dread:

_Mr Harry James Potter,_

_We are pleased to award you with the following Ordinary Wizarding Level examination results:_

_Astronomy – Acceptable,_

_Care of magical Creatures - Exceeds Expectations,_

_Charms – Outstanding,_

_Defence Against the Dark Arts – Outstanding,_

_Divination – Poor,_

_Herbology - Exceeds Expectations,_

_History of Magic – Acceptable,_

_Transfiguration - Exceeds Expectations,_

_Potions - Exceeds Expectations._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Griselda Marchbanks_

_Wizarding Examinations Authority.___

It could have been worse, Harry thought to himself, he could have failed them all.  He was not at all surprised that he had failed Divination.  The only grade he was disappointed in was his Potions grade.  He knew that the Potions Master, Severus Snape, refused to accept people into his NEWT class unless they had achieved an O in their OWL exam.  Harry needed a NEWT, Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Test, in Potions in order to become an Auror.  

Like all his other dreams, Harry's career as an Auror, a dark wizard catcher, seemed to be disappearing before his very eyes.  He could see it now, Ron and Hermione becoming Aurors without him, while he sat in his room at the Dursley's for the rest of his life, rotting away.

Harry angrily stuffed the letter back inside its envelope and threw it on the floor.  He then reluctantly returned to reading the letter from his friends:

_We really hope you change your mind about coming here this summer.  You wouldn't recognise the place anymore.  Mrs Weasley's done an amazing job with the cleaning.  It looks like a new house._

_I expect you already know this, but Dumbledore has arranged a meeting with us this week.  We thought we would take the opportunity to go to Diagon Alley and buy our books for school and we were hoping you would meet with us.  Please write straight back and let us know._

_From Hermione and Ron.___

_P.S.  Happy Birthday Harry!  Sorry we haven't sent you anything, but we haven't had a chance to get out.  We'll treat you on Thursday.  Please say you'll come!_

So, they had been invited to meet with Dumbledore as well, Harry thought savagely.  Why would Dumbledore want to speak with them?  He had selfishly assumed the meeting was to involve just himself and Dumbledore.  It was he, Harry, who had been alienated from the wizarding world this summer.

Harry reluctantly turned the piece of parchment over and scribbled on the back:

_OK, I'll see you on Thursday.  How are you getting there and what time should I meet you?_

He folded the piece of parchment and placed it next to Hedwig's cage.  He would get Hedwig to take it back as soon as she returned from hunting.

He then turned to the next envelope.  In side was a folded piece of tattered parchment with the number sixteen scribbled on the front.  Harry unfolded the parchment to reveal his Care of Magical Creatures teacher, Rubeus Hagrid's, scribbled handwriting.  Harry tossed the hand made card onto the floor and turned to the final envelope, which looked familiarly like the usual letter from Hogwarts.  He opened it and read the usual information from the Deputy Headmistress and Transfiguration teacher, Minerva McGonagall.  The letter told him that school would start on the first of September and there was a list of books required for next year.

Harry threw the letter onto the floor with the others, and lay back down on the bed.  He resolved to staring at the ceiling again until he slowly drifted into a deep and troubled sleep.


	2. Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

Harry woke up suddenly as if someone had poked him really hard. It was still very dark. He reached over for his glasses. Then he realised that he was still wearing them, but at the same time he realised that he was no longer lying on his bed. He sat up and felt around himself in the darkness. He felt cool, damp grass between his fingers.__

_I must be outside_, he thought to himself. But he knew that this made no sense. He had fallen asleep in his bed; there was no way he could be outside.

Then he heard it, quiet at first, but growing steadily louder. That unmistakable, terrible, cold rattling breath. Dementors. There were several of them, surrounding him. But he could not see them, it was too dark. He could sense them drawing closer; he could feel that familiar ice-cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. He got to his feet and instinctively felt in his pocket for his wand, drew it out in one swift movement and shouted:

"_Expecto Patronum_."

It was as if the darkness was swirling in front of his very eyes. The world was spinning faster and faster around him. He clutched his wand as tight as he could, while desperately trying to keep his balance.

Then it stopped, so quickly that it took Harry a moment to collect himself. He felt sick and dizzy. Slowly he managed to focus on his new surroundings. He was in the graveyard. The very graveyard where he had witnessed the death of a fellow student, Cedric Diggory, and the rebirth of the Dark Lord.

But now it appeared to be empty. Harry continued to hold his wand out steadily in front of him. He span around, trying to ensure he was alone. But as he did so, his eyes came to rest on a gravestone behind him. The grave appeared to be new and the earth looked freshly dug. Harry focused on the name carved into the gravestone: _Sirius Black_.

He sunk to the floor, kneeling in front of the grave as he read and re-read the name. How could this be, he thought to himself, Sirius had disappeared behind the veil in the Department of Mysteries. There had been no body to bury.

Then Harry realised that he was no longer alone. He looked up to see two people standing behind the gravestone. Harry recognised them both instantly. One was tall and thin, with a horrible snake-like face and scarlet eyes - Lord Voldemort. The other was unmistakably Bellatrix Lestrange, Sirius's cousin and murderer. Both of them were laughing down at Harry. Voldemort's terrible high-pitched laugh echoed through the darkness of the graveyard. The laugh sent a searing pain across Harry's scar.

"NO," Harry yelled at them. He leapt to his feet and pointed his wand directly at Voldemort, who continued to laugh at him.

But before Harry could say anything else, the world began to spin again and the laughter faded away. He fell forwards onto his knees and fought back the urge to be sick. He squeezed his eyes shut in a desperate attempt to block out the swirling darkness that surrounded him.

The spinning stopped again, just as suddenly as it had before. Harry toppled forwards and landed with a loud THUD on his bedroom floor. He still felt extremely dizzy and his scar continued to throb painfully on his forehead. He got up off the floor and scrambled back into his bed. He listened hard for any sign that he may have woken the Dursley's. But all he could hear was Uncle Vernon's grunting snore.

Harry lay down and pulled the covers back over himself. Visions of the graveyard and Voldemort swam before his eyes, until he finally drifted back into a very restless and irritable sleep.

* * * * *

The following morning, Harry convinced a reluctant Hedwig to take his reply back to Ron and Hermione. He also gave her a short note to take to Remus Lupin, a member of the Order who had been a close friend of Sirius and Harry's father. Harry had promised to contact the Order every three days to let them know that he was safe and well. Harry had suspected that members of the Order had been watching him all summer, just as they had done last year. But he felt obliged to do as he was told and stay in regular contact.

Hedwig did not return until the following evening, but she was carrying yet another note written in Hermione's neat handwriting:__

_Harry,_

_Thanks for writing back; it was great to hear from you. Someone from the Order will come and get you on Thursday morning at 10 o'clock. We'll see you at Diagon Alley. Then someone will escort you home after the meeting. Unless, of course, you want to come back with us? Just think about it, Harry, OK? We can't wait to see you,_

_Hermione and Ron._

Without really thinking about it, Harry screwed up the note and threw it into the wastepaper basket in the corner of his room.

The following morning, Harry forced himself to go down for breakfast. He did not spend much time with the Dursley's anymore and he knew that they were glad he kept away from them.

When Harry walked into the kitchen, he distinctly saw Dudley's eyes widen in fear. Last summer, Harry had rescued Dudley from two Dementors, the horrible creatures which usually guarded the wizard prison, Azkaban. But the Dursley's were convinced that Harry had told the Dementors to attack Dudley. They did not understand that the Dementors had actually been sent to attack Harry, and that Dudley had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. If it had not been for Harry, Dudley would probably have been 'kissed' - when a Dementor sucks a person's soul out through their mouth. This would have been a fate worse than death for Harry's cousin. But instead of treating Harry like a hero for saving their son, the Dursley's treated Harry even more like an outcast than ever before.

Harry sat down at the kitchen table and helped himself to some toast.

"Morning," he muttered, whilst spreading jam on his slice of warm toast.

Nobody bothered to answer him, but Uncle Vernon's large face appeared to be growing redder and redder by the second, his walrus moustache twitching with anger.

"I'll be going out on Thursday," Harry continued.

"Out where?" Aunt Petunia squeaked from beside the stove, "If you're going round that silly old woman's house again, go right ahead, she's just as crazy as you are."

"I'm not crazy, and neither is she," said Harry calmly, "But no, I'm not going round Mrs Figg's. I'll be going to London for the day ..."

"If you think I'm going to waste my time carting you to London again," Uncle Vernon butt in, "Then you're sadly mistaken, boy!"

Uncle Vernon's face began to turn purple with rage. But this was common when he was talking to Harry. It was as if every conversation between them made Uncle Vernon's blood boil.

"Thanks," Harry spat back, "But I don't need your help. Someone is going to pick me up and bring me back."

"I'M NOT HAVING ONE OF _YOUR LOT_ COMING ROUND HERE AGAIN!" Uncle Vernon roared.

The Dursley's had not experienced many positive encounters with wizards. The few times they had come into close contact had usually ended in disaster. Harry supposed he could not blame them for being anxious, but he was not going to give in to his uncle.

"I don't care what you say," Harry growled back, rising form his chair and causing Dudley to squirm uncomfortably, "Gone are the days when you could order me around. I'm sixteen now, if you hadn't noticed, and old enough to decide what I do and when I do it. I'm going to London on Thursday and someone will be picking me up at ten o'clock in the morning. If you don't want to see them, then don't be here! But you're not going to stop me from going."

"As long as you're living under my roof ..."

But Harry did not hear the rest of Uncle Vernon's lecture. He had already walked out of the kitchen, taking his half-eaten piece of toast with him. He returned to his bedroom, where he sat back down on his bed and finished his breakfast.

He spent the next couple of days in just the same way he had spent the last four weeks, sulking in his room and avoiding the Dursley's as much as possible. Harry had expected Uncle Vernon to lock him in his room, as he usually did when Harry annoyed him. But although Aunt Petunia continued to pass him his meals through the cat flap in his door (as she had been doing all summer), the door remained unlocked.

On Thursday morning, Harry woke up early and sneaked down to the kitchen to eat some breakfast before the Dursley's got up. He then returned to his room, where he sat on his bed and waited for ten o'clock. He had no idea who would be coming for him, or how they would get there. At about half-past nine, Harry heard the Dursley's get quietly into their car and drive away. This sent a wave of relief through Harry.

Finally, he heard the clock downstairs strike ten. Then, almost as soon as the tenth chime echoed out through the emptiness of the house, the doorbell rang. Harry jumped to his feet and bolted down the stairs two at a time. He would never have admitted it, but he was actually very excited to be returning to the wizarding world, even if it was just for one day.

Harry opened the door and to his great surprise, saw the familiar face of Percy Weasley, one of Ron's older brothers, beaming down at him.

"Hi there, Harry," Percy continued to smile broadly, "I guess you must be surprised to see me?"

"Well, yeah, a bit," Harry replied.

"That's OK, I don't blame you," Percy stepped inside the house and looked around with great interest.  Then he looked back down at Harry, "I guess I owe you an apology."

"Oh, no, don't worry about it," stammered Harry.

He had not really thought about Percy at all this summer. Percy had sided with the Ministry in dismissing Harry's story last year, and had fallen out with his family in the process. Now that the Ministry had changed their view on the matter, it seemed logical that Percy would have, too.

"No, I really am sorry, Harry," Percy pressed on, "I was an idiot and I sincerely apologise. I've also apologised to my parents. I wouldn't have blamed them if they had rejected me. But they've been brilliant about it."

Harry found that he felt comfort in the thought that Percy had reconciled with his parents. Harry knew that Mrs Weasley would be much happier to have all of her family back on the same side together.

"So, how are we getting there?" Harry asked.

"Well, I Apparated here, of course," Percy replied, "But we'll take the Knight Bus back. Members of the Order will be keeping guard during the journey, just in case."

Percy stepped back out into the weak sunshine and Harry followed, closing the door behind himself. The day was fairly warm, but the sky was full of angry rain clouds, threatening to burst at any time. Harry followed Percy to the edge of the road, constantly looking around for any sign of someone else from the Order, but the street appeared to be empty. Percy stuck out his wand hand -

BANG.

The familiar purple, triple-decker Knight Bus appeared from nowhere right in front of them. A greasy-haired, pimply-faced wizard, who Harry knew to be Stan Shunpike, stepped off the bus.

"Welcome aboard the Knight Bus," Stan announced, "Oh, hey there, Harry! Good to see you again."

They paid Stan eleven sickles each and stepped aboard.

"Leaky Cauldron," said Percy, leading Harry to a couple of seats at the back of the lower deck.

BANG. Privet drive was gone. They were rattling mercilessly across a field, causing cows to jump out of their path. BANG. They were bustling down a busy dual carriageway. BANG. BANG. BANG. Several stops later, they arrived outside the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron. Harry and Percy thanked Stan, and stepped off the bus. BANG. The bus was gone.

The entrance to the Leaky Cauldron was almost indistinguishable. Most muggles would walk straight past it without realising it was there. Percy pushed open the door and walked inside the dingy pub. Harry followed, but before he had a chance to look around he was being suffocated by a mass of bushy brown hair. 


	3. Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

"I can't breathe, Hermione."

"Sorry," Hermione timidly backed away from Harry.  "It's just so good to see you."

"It's great to see you," said Harry, "but just don't suffocate me without warning!"

They both laughed and Harry followed Hermione into the darkness of the Leaky Cauldron. She led him to a table in the far corner. In the dim candlelight Harry could see several ginger-haired heads gathered close together around the table. It looked as though the Weasley family were reading something which was spread across the table in front of them.

As Harry approached, Ron's younger sister, Ginny, looked up. Her bright eyes sparkled with delight when she saw Harry. She leapt to her feet, closely followed by Mr and Mrs Weasley, and their eldest son, Bill, who all greeted Harry warmly with hugs and handshakes.

"Harry, dear, come and sit down," said Mrs Weasley, hastily pulling more chairs around the already crowded table.  "It's wonderful to see you. I hope those muggles have been treating you well?"

"Yeah, they've been OK," replied Harry, "what are you reading?"

Harry sat down at the table and looked at the large piece of parchment that was spread across it. Then he noticed the title_: Weasley's Wizard Wheezes_.

"It's the full-page ad for Fred and George's joke shop," Ginny answered, "it was printed in today's Daily Prophet."

The ad was covered in wizard photos, most of which contained moving black and white versions of the twins displaying their best products. One was a particularly nasty picture of Fred (or was it George?) being violently sick. The caption read: 

_Skiving Snackboxes - you'll never need to fake it again!_'

Harry looked across the table at Hermione, who grinned back at him.

"So, they've started the joke shop, have they?" he asked.

"Unfortunately, yes," replied Mrs Weasley, "but I'm still not happy with the idea. They've rented a shop in Diagon Alley and it's doing well. But they still refuse to tell me where they got the money from in the first place."

Harry looked away. He had given the twins his Triwizard Tournament winnings just over a year ago and had hoped they would not tell their parents where they got it. Mrs Weasley had never approved of the joke shop idea, but it had always been a dream for Fred and George, and they really were very talented.

"So, where's Ron?" Harry tried to change to subject.

"He's helping out at the shop," said Mr Weasley, "they've been fairly busy with all the students doing their shopping for school."

"Come on," said Bill, rising from the table, "I'll take you down there. I've got to get back to work now anyway."

Bill worked for Gringotts Wizards Bank in Diagon Alley. 

"Be back here at one o'clock for lunch," said Mrs Weasley.

Harry rose from his seat, closely followed by Hermione and Ginny. They followed Bill through a door in the back of the pub, which led out into a small courtyard. Bill stopped in front of the back wall, produced his wand from inside his robes, and tapped the bricks lightly. The wall folded away to reveal a long windy street lined with all kinds of shops. Diagon Alley.

As they walked down the street, Harry glanced at the usual shops and stalls. Quality Quidditch Supplies were displaying the latest Tornado's team uniform in the window. There were several stalls lining the street, selling common potion ingredients such as Unicorn horns, Dragon hearts and buckets of squirming Flobberworms.

The four of them walked in silence for a few minutes. Then Ginny spoke timidly:

"Are you coming back to Grimmauld Place with us, Harry?"

Then she let out a small cry as if someone had kicked her.

"Don't worry," Hermione said casually, "you don't have to decide yet, Harry."

"Oh, it's OK," said Harry, "I've already made my decision. I haven't changed my mind. I'd rather stay in Privet Drive for now."

He knew how strange this sounded as soon as he had said it. When had he voluntarily chosen to live in Privet Drive? But right now he really did not feel that he could stay at Sirius's old house and Privet Drive was his only alternative.

"Here we are," Bill interrupted and they all stopped.

Harry looked up at the shop. He was surprised at how good it really looked. The Triwizard winnings had obviously been well spent. In the window there was a fine display of joke wand, boxes of Canary Creams, and several packets of Skiving Snackboxes. There was a large wooden sign above the window which read: '_Weasley's Wizard Wheezes_' in fancy writing.

"I'll see you lot later," said Bill and he continued down Diagon Alley towards Gringotts.

Hermione pushed open the door. Harry would have expected a bell of some kind to ring out the arrival of customers, but instead he was greeted by a bellowing horn.  AWOOGAH.

Harry stared around the store in disbelief. It was everything he would have expected from a joke shop, and more. The room was full of object whirling and bouncing, there were sparks issuing from various shelves and strange multi-coloured bat-like creatures fluttering around the ceiling.

Fred and George were in the far corner, arguing over a counter display. In their tussle, they dropped something, which exploded as soon as it the floor. Several stars shot into the air, followed by a large puff of bright pink smoke.

"Not again," came Ron's groan from behind the counter, "I'm fed up with cleaning up your mess."

"Well, that's what we're paying you for, little bro," Fred laughed.

"Welcome to the chaos," announced George, turning to greet the others, who were still standing in the doorway.

"Hey, Harry," said Ron, who jumped over the counter and almost slipped on the pink slime that now covered the floorboards.

"Alright, Ron?" said Harry, reaching a hand out to Ron to help him regain his balance.  Ron took Harry's hand and pulled him into a brief hug.

"We've missed you, mate," Ron grabbed a mop which was propped against the wall and began cleaning up the mess.

"So, what do you think?" asked Fred, "turned out good, hasn't it?"

"Brilliant," replied Harry, "really brilliant!"

They spent the rest of the morning showing Harry all the new products in the store. Several familiar Hogwarts students popped in to stock up on Fred and George's now famous Skiving Snackboxes.

Neville Longbottom, a fellow sixth year student, dropped in to see them at around midday, accompanied as always by his gran. Neville was a very clumsy and forgetful boy who had shared a dormitory in Gryffindor house with Harry and Ron for the last five years. But it was only in the last couple of months, since Neville had shown real bravery and friendship towards Harry on the night of Sirius's death, that Harry had really learned to appreciate Neville as a talented wizard.

"Had a good summer so far?" Neville asked Harry, while his gran looked apprehensively around the shop.

"It's been alright," Harry lied, "how about you?"

"Oh yeah, not bad," replied Neville, then reducing his voice to a whisper he continued, "But I'm not looking forward to going back to Hogwarts. I didn't do too well on my OWL exams and Gran's made me promise to work harder for my NEWT's. It's as if she thinks I'm not trying hard enough already!"

"You'll be alright," Harry reassured him, "I'm sure Hermione will help you out. Just as long as you give her enough time to help me, too!"

Neville laughed, then shrieked in surprise as one of the colourful bats swooped down from the ceiling, brushing the top of his head.

"Come along now," Neville's gran took him by the shoulder and began smoothing his ruffled hair with her wrinkled hand.  "We've still got to buy you a new wand."

"Alright," groaned Neville, "see you later, Harry, at the meeting ..."

Neville's words trailed off as his gran pushed him back out onto the street.

"We'd better get back to the Leaky Cauldron for lunch," said Hermione, whilst putting the last box of Ton-Tongue Toffees onto a neat little pyramid she had been working on.

"So, Neville's coming to the meeting as well?" Harry asked Hermione as they stepped out of the shop into the weak sunshine.

"I think Dumbledore's invited quite a few students," Hermione replied, then hastily added, "but before you ask, I don't know what the meeting's about."


	4. Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR 

At lunch, many conversations circled the table, but nobody mentioned Voldemort or any activity from his Death Eaters.  Harry was surprised to find that Percy was not joining them for lunch, but Mrs Weasley assured him that Percy had a lot of work to do at the Ministry.  Percy was Junior Assistant to the Minister, and Harry supposed that Fudge must have been keeping him on his feet.

Harry spent the rest of the afternoon simply enjoying the company of the Weasley family.  After lunch they returned to Diagon Alley, where they wandered around the shops buying new school supplies and books.  Hermione and Ron treated Harry to an ice cream sundae at Florian Fortescue's Ice cream Parlour, but he ended up letting Ginny eat most of it for him.

They were all thoroughly drained of energy when they finally got back to the Leaky Cauldron.  Harry had almost forgotten about the meeting until he walked through the door to see Dumbledore standing at the bar in deep conversation with the bald, toothless bar tender, Tom.  It had only been four weeks since Harry had last seen Dumbledore, but somehow he looked as though he had aged several years.

Harry felt someone pulling on his sleeve and was drawn out of his contemplation.  Ginny was attempting to tug him towards a door that Harry knew led to a private room off the side of the pub.  As they approached the room Harry could hear the sound of many voices talking at once.

Ron and Hermione must have gone ahead of them because they were already inside.  Ron beckoned Harry and Ginny over to two empty chairs on one side of a large table that stood in the centre of the room.  

Harry sat down in the chair between Hermione and Ron, and looked around.  The small room was filled with students from Hogwarts, all chatting brightly with each other.  The Creevey brothers, Colin and Dennis, waved at Harry excitedly from the other side of the room.

"It seems to be everyone from the DA," Hermione whispered to Harry.

Harry looked again at the faces surrounding the table.  Hermione was right; everyone there seemed to be from the DA, a secret Defence Against the Dark Arts society they had formed last year.

The door opened again and Dumbledore entered the room, causing the students to fall immediately into a hushed silence.  Dumbledore stood at the head of the table, his long silver beard shining in the candlelight, as he surveyed them over his half-moon spectacles.

"Thank you all for coming," he began.  "I called this meeting to discuss recent events before we return to Hogwarts.  As you all know, the Ministry of Magic has now accepted that Lord Voldemort has indeed returned to power."

Harry noticed several people wince at the sound of the Dark Lord's name, but Luna Lovegood, an odd fifth year girl from Ravenclaw, let out a small squeal which Harry thought sounded more like delight than fright.

"Also," Dumbledore continued, "you are probably aware that things have been very quiet over the last few weeks.  I can confirm that the Dementors have left Azkaban.  But so far the Ministry have successfully prevented anyone escaping from the prison.  I am unsure how long these efforts will last, but for now we can be certain that Voldemort's numbers are low. 

"But this does not mean that we are safe.  It appears Voldemort is waiting.  For what, I do not know.  Possibly until he can gather more Death Eaters, or possibly to trick the Ministry into believing he will not attack at all.

"So we must be on our guard.  I would like you to continue with your meetings at school and continue to recruit more students.  Even though Voldemort's return is now widely known I do not fool myself that people are adequately prepared.  We need to spread the news to students without drawing too much attention to the school.  Remember, if a Death Eater hears that we are training students to fight them, we will be simply writing our own death warrants.  We need to create the illusion that the school is not a threat.  That will buy us all some crucial time."

"Excuse me Headmaster," Cho Chang, a pretty Ravenclaw seventh year, put her hand timidly into the air.

"Oh yes, may I introduce to you all, our new Head Girl," said Dumbledore happily.  "Yes, Miss Chang?"

"I was just wondering why you aren't telling this to the whole school," Cho asked.  Her face now had a slight tinge of pink to it.

"Because, I am afraid to say that we can not trust everyone," replied Dumbledore.  There was a note of sadness in his voice.  "That is why I am asking you all to be very careful, even with students in your own houses.  You will need to continue training in secret and be cautious of who you invite to meetings."

He stopped speaking and let out a deep, exhausted sigh.

Harry had spent most of Dumbledore's speech just staring at his own feet.  When Dumbledore finished speaking, Harry looked up and was surprised to find Dumbledore's sparkling eyes staring directly into his.  Harry looked away.  Last year he would have given anything to have Dumbledore look directly at him, to acknowledge him.  But now Harry felt he would give anything just to be ignored.  He wanted to go back to his room in Privet Drive, away from his headmaster and away from his school friends.  He just wanted to fade into the background forever.

"So," Dumbledore continued, "I have things to attend to.  Thank you all for coming today and if you need me at any time this year, I invite any of you to visit me at any time in my office.  My password this year is 'Sugar Quill'.  I look forward to seeing you all at Hogwarts very soon."

And with that, Dumbledore turned and left the room, which immediately erupted into a gabble of excited conversation.

"Hey there, Harry."

Cho Chang had appeared behind Harry.  He reluctantly looked up again from his feet.

"Hi."

"Harry, I'm really sorry about your godfather," said Cho, gently placing a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"How…?"

"It was in the Daily Prophet last week," Cho replied quickly.  "They did an article about Sirius Black, how he was innocent and how he died before his name was cleared…"

"He is not dead," Harry found himself saying, much louder than he had intended.

"Oh … sorry." Cho looked around hopelessly.  "It's just … the article said…"

"He was still alive when he fell through the veil," said Harry, rising from his chair.

"Harry?"  Hermione said gently, rising slowly from her own chair.

But Harry had already pushed past Cho and was fighting his way through the throng of students in the small room.

"Wait…"

Someone had grabbed hold of Harry's sleeve just before he reached the door.  He swung around to see Luna Lovegood standing innocently behind him, the same dreamy look on her face that she always had.

"What?" Harry spat.

"Um, I just wanted to ask how your summer had been so far."  Luna looked very hurt by Harry's harsh reply.

"Great." Harry did not attempt to disguise his annoyance.  "Really great."

He shook Luna's hand off his sleeve and pushed through the door.  He did not stop until he had walked right out of the Leaky Cauldron and was standing on the street outside.  He stared up at the sky.  The sun was just beginning to set and the sky was still threatening to rain.

It was not long before Ron and Hermione came hurriedly through the door behind him and stood panting on the street.

"It's a madhouse in there," said Ron, with the air of someone who had no idea what to say and had just said the first thing that came into his head.

Hermione shot Ron a scathing look.

"We should have told you about the article," she said soothingly, "but we weren't sure if you'd been reading the Daily Prophet."

Harry said nothing.  He had not bothered reading the Daily Prophet this summer.  The wizard newspaper had spent the whole of last year reporting that Harry was an attention-seeking lunatic.

"Dumbledore has been re-appointed Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and he made it his priority to clear Sirius's name," Hermione continued, "but well … I see now that we should have told you about it."

"It's fine," said Harry irritably, "I'm going home now."

"OK, but just wait until I get someone to escort you," said Hermione, turning back to the door behind them, "I don't think it's a good idea for you to travel alone, and Dumbledore would be really angry if we let you."

She disappeared back inside the Leaky Cauldron, leaving Harry and Ron alone on the street.  There was a rumble from the clouds above them and it began to rain softly.  Then the sky erupted into a heavy downpour.

"Quick.  Under here."  Ron pulled Harry underneath a nearby bus shelter.

They both stood in silence for a moment and Harry busied himself by staring at the bus timetable.

"It's quiet out here tonight," Ron commented.

"Yeah," replied Harry.  "Oh damn, I just remembered, I left my shopping inside."

"Don't worry; I'll go back and…"

Ron trailed off.  He seemed to be staring at something over Harry's shoulder.  His eyes narrowed, as if trying to focus on something.  Then they widened in terror.

"LOOK OUT!"  Ron shouted.  He leapt forward at Harry.

Harry tried to turn around and see what Ron was pushing him away from.  At the same time he instinctively pulled his wand from the waistband of his jeans.

Then something hit Ron across the head and he fell to the ground, knocking Harry's wand out of his hand.  The wand hit the floor and rolled away.  Ron hit the pavement, too, and lay there unconscious.

Now released from Ron's grip, Harry span around to see what had hit his friend.  But before he knew what had happened, THUD.  A sharp pain seared across Harry's head.  Then everything went black.


	5. Chapter Five

CHAPTER FIVE 

Harry blinked.  Everything was blurred.  He tried to focus on his surroundings but someone had removed his glasses.

"Harry."

It came from somewhere across the room.  Harry sat up.  It felt like he was on a mattress of some kind.  He realised his legs had been bound together at the ankles.  He looked blindly around the room, but as soon as he moved his head he felt a sharp pain cut across his skull.  Then he remembered being hit on the head with something hard.  He instinctively went to feel his head with his hand and realised that his hands were tied behind his back.

"Harry."

It was Ron's voice that penetrated the silence.

"Ron?"

Harry tried to focus on the ginger blur sitting several metres in front of him.  There was a window behind Ron, through which Harry could tell it was daytime.

"Keep your voice down," hissed Ron.

"Where are we?" Harry whispered.

"Dunno," mumbled Ron, "some kind of warehouse I think."

"How did we get here?"

"Well, this fat git knocked us both out with a wooden bat.  I think he's a muggle, though, because he hasn't even thought to take my wand.  It's still in my pocket.  

"How long have we been here?" Harry asked.

"All night.  The fat guy seemed really concerned when you didn't wake up.  He must've hit you pretty hard.  But at least you got to lie down.  I've been tied to this stupid wooden chair all night."

"Can you reach your wand?" Harry asked.  "I dropped mine outside the Leaky Cauldron."

"If I could reach my wand, do you really think I would be sitting here staring at you all night?"  Ron replied sarcastically.

"Sorry mate.  Of course not."

Harry was struggling to think straight through the pain throbbing on the back of his head.

"Where is this guy?" Harry asked.

"He's in a room just over there," replied Ron.  "I don't think he's quite all there, if you know what I mean.  Seems a bit stupid to me."

"We need to think of a plan…" mumbled Harry, more to himself than to Ron.

"I'm dying to go to the toilet," Ron groaned in reply.

They both sat in silence for several minutes.  Harry racked his brain for an idea.  It could not be that hard to fool a muggle.  Especially if he was as dumb as Ron said he was.  And Ron had his wand …

"That's it," said Harry suddenly, "you can call the guy in here and tell him you want to go to the toilet.  When he unties you, pull out your wand and stun him."

"I guess it's worth a try," replied Ron.  "HEY!  HEY YOU, GET IN HERE!"

A door opened on the other side of the room and Harry heard heavy footsteps echoing across the room.  The blurry outline of a very tall, heavily-built man came into view.  Harry began to doubt Ron's ability to stun such a large man.

"You're awake," came a deep, grunting voice.

Harry felt a large, thick hand on his face.  The man pushed Harry's eyelids up into his head as if checking his eyes for signs of damage.

"Um, yeah," Harry replied uncertainly.

"Hey, I need to go to the toilet," Ron cut in.

"No," came the simple reply.

"OK, then what do you suggest I do," said Ron in a mocking voice, "go all over the floor?"

Harry could tell that this had challenged the man.  He could almost hear the guy thinking it through.

"Alright," he said finally.

He strolled clumsily over to Ron and began untying him.  This seemed to take him an extremely long time.  Finally, Harry saw the blurred figure of Ron rise from the chair.  Ron whipped his wand out of his pocket and shouted:

"_Stupefy_."

A jet of red light shot out of Ron's wand and hit the muggle square in the chest.  The man's feet left the ground and his body was thrown across the room.  Harry was so taken-aback by Ron's perfect use of the stunning spell, he realised far too late that he was sitting right where the man was about to land.  Harry began in vain to scramble to his feet, but it was only seconds before he was flattened between the muggle and the mattress.

He began trying to wriggle out from under the man.  Ron scrambled over to them and began heaving at the muggle from the other side.  The man began to stir; the spell was wearing off fast.

"_Avada Kedavra_."

Another voice echoed through the room.  A familiar voice which Harry thought he recognised but could not quite place.  For one terrible second, he thought the death curse had hit his best friend.  Ron had flattened himself to the ground behind the muggle's large torso to avoid the green light which shot across the room at him.  The curse hit the muggle instead, who continued to lay stiff as a board on top of Harry.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_."

Harry felt the tremendous weight of the muggle being lifted off him.  He rolled over to see the dark outline of a Death Eater standing just metres away.  The Death Eater flicked his wand and the large body of the muggle crashed to the floor in one corner of the room.

"_Stupefy_."

It was Ron's shaky voice that resounded across the room.  He stood over Harry, his wand held weakly in front of him.  But his stunning spell missed.  The red light shot across the room and hit the chair by the window, smashing it into tiny pieces.  The Death Eater laughed.  A high, cold laugh that echoed eerily throughout the room. 

"_Expelliarmus."_

The Death Eater's disarming spell shot across the room and knocked Ron's wand clean out of his hands.  Harry heard it hit the wall and smash.  The force of the spell knocked Ron off his feet.  Harry looked around to see Ron sitting helplessly beside him on the floor.

The Death Eater strolled casually across the room and bent down over Harry.  He reached down and grabbed the neck of Harry's t-shirt, dragging him to his feet in one swift movement. 

"Well, well, well.  It's the famous Harry Potter," the Death Eater spat Harry's name in his ear.  "We meet again."

Harry could not think where he had heard that voice before.  The Death Eater tugged at the back of Harry's t-shirt, making it cut into his neck.  Harry looked down and saw Ron still sitting motionless on the floor.  The door was not too far from where Ron was sitting …

Harry rolled his eyes from Ron to the doorway.   He had no idea if Ron had understood him, but he had to do something.

The Death Eater tugged harder at Harry's t-shirt.

"Time to clear things up here, I think … aargh!"

Harry had summoned all of his energy and pushed backwards into the Death Eater as hard as he could. It worked.  The Death Eater was taken by surprise. He stumbled and fell backwards, dragging Harry to the ground with him.  Harry landed on top of him, pinning him to the floor.

"Run," Harry hissed at Ron.  Ron did not move.  Harry was struggling to keep the Death Eater trapped beneath him.  "Run now, you idiot!  Get help!"

Something seemed to click inside Ron's head.  He scrambled hastily to his feet and taking one last worried look at Harry, he ran towards the door.  

The Death Eater finally managed to free himself, and threw Harry onto the hard wooden floor.  Harry hit his head on a floorboard.  The pain was excruciating.  The wound on his head, which was still so fresh, seemed to open again.  He felt warm blood trickle down the back of his neck.  Small stars started to dance across his vision.

He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again to see the Death Eater now standing over him, his wand raised. It suddenly occurred to Harry that this Death Eater had probably been sent to kill him.  There was no escape.  He could not move.  He tried to focus on the black figure above him.  He did not want to show any signs of fear.  After what seemed like an eternity the Death Eater opened his mouth:

"_Stupefy_." 


	6. Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX

It was very cold. Harry could feel himself shivering. His ankles were still bound together and his hands still tied behind his back, but he knew instantly that he was no longer in the warehouse. He was lying face down on a cold stone floor.

His first thought was that this was another nightmare. He squinted around in the darkness. The room was very dark and empty. Even if he had been wearing his glasses, Harry knew there would be nothing to see. The only light in the room was a dim strip of orange which sneaked in from under a door on the far side of the small room.

Every inch of Harry's body ached. It took all of his strength to push himself into a sitting position and he had to prop himself against the cold wall for support. The hard stone floor and wall felt just like those in the dungeons at Hogwarts. But there was no way he could be in Hogwarts now.

Summoning the last ounces of his strength, Harry pushed himself up the wall until he was standing and hopped a couple of metres across the room, to the door on the far wall. With extreme difficulty he turned his back to the door and ran his fingers over the wood. Finally, just as he was about to give up, his fingers found the cool iron handle. He scrambled his fingers over the metal until he had a good grip and turned it.

Locked. He did not know why he had bothered. Of course it was locked. Harry lent back against the door and slid down it to the floor. He placed his ear against the polished wood and listened hard. There was no sound from the other side. He slid further down the door and tried to peak through the crack underneath it, but without his glasses all he could see was a faint orange glow. He pushed himself back up so that he was sitting with his back to the door and drew his knees into his chest. He felt exhausted. He placed his head on his knees and closed his eyes. Hid head was aching and his scar was prickling uncomfortably. Wherever he was, someone would find him soon. Ron was sure to have alerted Dumbledore and the Order by now. They would be here any minute to rescue him. 

Harry drifted in and out of consciousness. He had no idea what the time was and there was still no sound from the other side of the door. _Someone will be here soon_, he told himself over and over. 

Fatigue and hunger consumed him. He lost track of time completely. He spent hours in restless, troubled sleep and woke to spend hours staring into the darkness of the room. Why had nobody come for him? If Sirius was around, he would have rescued Harry days ago. Sirius would have cared; he would have done everything in his power to find Harry.

Harry wiped his face on his jeans. Maybe nobody would find him. Harry began to wonder how long he could survive, trapped in this cold, damp room, without food or water. He would not be the 'Boy Who Lived' for much longer. He felt extremely angry at himself. It was his stupidity that had landed him here. At least this time he had no dragged any of his friends down with him.

"Bow to death, Harry." 

A cold voice penetrated his throbbing head. 

_Why not_, Harry thought, at least he would be with his parents again. And if Sirius really was dead, then Harry would be with him again, too.

These thoughts swirled inside the emptiness of Harry's head as his mind drifted into unconsciousness again...

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ..."

Sybill Trelawney's bony, bespectacled face swam across the darkness of Harry's mind.

"Well, he can kill me," Harry hissed at his dream, "because I'm not going to fight him." 

"Why not?"

Trelawney's face had dissolved. Harry opened his eyes and looked around the room. Sirius Black stepped out of the shadows in the far corner. Harry could see him, clear as day. Sirius looked tired, his robes were torn and dirty and his long black hair was filthy and tangled.

"Sirius?"

"You didn't answer my question," said Sirius, sitting down on the floor next to Harry, "why won't you fight?"

"There's no point," said Harry moodily, "every time I fight him, he ends up killing someone else. I should just let him kill me. Then maybe he'll leave my friends alone."

"Harry, I thought you were smarter than that."

"I'm not smart," mumbled Harry, "I've never been smart."

"Come on, Harry," Sirius replied calmly, "your parents' death wasn't your fault, you were just a baby. Cedric Diggory wasn't your fault ..."

"I told him to take the Triwizard Cup with me," Harry interrupted.

"But that doesn't make it your fault that he died," Sirius looked at Harry, looked into his eyes, into his heart, "but I know what's really eating you. You think _my_ death was your fault."

"You're not dead," said Harry simply, "you're here ... you're alive."

"Don't give up, Harry. Whatever happens, don't give up. Innocent people are counting on you."

Harry tore his eyes away from his godfather and stared hard at the cold grey floor in front of him.

"Promise me, Harry. Promise that you won't give up."

"But ..."

Harry turned back to face his godfather, but Sirius was gone. The cold room was empty again.

"Sirius? SIRIUS!" Harry shouted into the darkness, "SIRIUS, COME BACK!"

Harry opened his eyes and looked around the blurry emptiness of the room. He drew his knees back into his chest and rested his head on them. He was so sure Sirius had been there.

His stomach growled uncomfortably and his head was throbbing worse than ever. He squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to drive away the pain. He opened them again and saw a glint of gold flash in the darkness. He lifted his head wearily and tried to focus. There was something there.

"Time to go home, Harry."

A warm feeling filled Harry's body as if he had just stepped into a hot bath.

"Sirius?" Harry croaked.  His throat was very dry and sore.

"Shh," said Dumbledore soothingly, "just relax, Harry, I'm going to take you out of here."

Dumbledore was kneeling in front of Harry with his wand held out. He pointed the wand at Harry's ankles and in a flash of light they were freed. He took Harry by the shoulder, pulled him away from the door and pointed his wand at Harry's hands. The bindings disappeared instantly. Harry felt a wave of relief to finally have the use of his hands again. He opened his mouth to speak again, but only managed to emit a small croak, which turned into a deep, dry cough.

"Don't try and talk now," said Dumbledore gently, "there will be plenty of time for that later."

With that, Dumbledore pulled Harry into a tight, fatherly hug. At first, Harry was shocked. Dumbledore had always been there for Harry, but he had never shown him affection like this before. Harry felt so comfortable in Dumbledore's presence, he did not want to ever let go.

"Time to go home," Dumbledore repeated, producing what appeared to be an empty Chocolate Frog box from his pocket. He let go of Harry, pointed his wand at the box and muttered, "_Portus_."

He held the box out to Harry.

"On three," said Dumbledore, "one ... two ... three."


	7. Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

Harry felt that familiar feeling, like a hook pulling him from somewhere around his naval. The cold, dark room dissolved quickly in a swirl of black. Harry could still feel Dumbledore next to him. Then everything stopped moving just as suddenly as it had started. Harry felt himself fall forwards and put his hands out to support himself. He felt extremely dizzy and disorientated.

He was now on his hands and knees inside Dumbledore's office at Hogwarts.  Dumbledore got to his feet and threw the Chocolate Frog box into the wastepaper basket by his desk. Then he turned to Harry and held out a hand for him, which Harry took gratefully. He got unsteadily to his feet, his legs shaking violently as he pressed his weight on them. Dumbledore kept a remarkably strong hold on Harry, considering his frail appearance. He helped Harry over to a seat by the desk and lowered him into it.

The door to Dumbledore's office swung open so suddenly that Harry cricked his neck as he swung around to look at it. McGonagall came bustling in to the office with a look of deep concern on her face. She looked mortified when she caught sight of Harry.

"Oh, heavens," she muttered.  "Thank goodness you're alright. We've been so worried."

"Minerva, would you be so kind as to ask Madam Pomfrey to prepare a hot bath," asked Dumbledore.

"Yes, of course."  McGonagall tried to compose herself.  "Right away, Headmaster."

She turned and left, closing the door again behind her.

"Now," Dumbledore turned back to Harry, "I suspect a nice warm mug of hot chocolate is in order."

He brandished his wand again and produced a tray from thin air, containing two steaming mugs of hot chocolate. He took his seat behind the desk and indicated for Harry to help himself to a mug. Harry took the drink eagerly and drank it all in three big gulps. It was heavenly. The warmth filled his body instantly from head to toe. He felt the pain in his head subside for the first time in days.

"What happened?" he croaked.  "Where's Ron? Is he OK?"

"He is fine," assured Dumbledore.  "He has been more concerned about you."

"Where was I?" asked Harry, placing his empty mug back on the tray.  Dumbledore indicated for him to take the second mug and he did so gladly.

"Azkaban," said Dumbledore calmly.

Harry's eyes widened in shock.

"That was Azkaban prison?" he asked uncertainly.  "How could I be in ... in there?"

Dumbledore sighed. It was a deep, exhausted sigh.

"I am sorry, Harry," he said finally.

"Sorry ... for what?"

"You have to understand, I had your best interests at heart," Dumbledore sighed again, "but then, my judgements have not always been my best where you are concerned."

"I ... I don't understand, Professor," Harry stammered. He narrowed his eyes in an attempt to focus on Dumbledore's face.

"The Ministry of Magic has reason to believe that you murdered a muggle," said Dumbledore slowly.

"The Ministry ... believes ... what?" Harry was completely taken aback.

"They have a witness who has testified against you," replied Dumbledore.  "But the Ministry has refused to release the name of their witness - even to me. 'Witness Protection' they are calling it. Well, this person supposedly saw you murder the muggle using the death curse ..."

"But I don't know how to use that curse," pleaded Harry.

"I know," replied Dumbledore calmly.  "I told the Ministry that exact same thing at your trial ..."

"Trial?" Harry was even more shocked.

"Yes, Harry, I attended your trial earlier today, accompanied by Mr Ron Weasley. It has been a week since you disappeared from outside the Leaky Cauldron. We had been looking for you for less than twenty-four hours when Ron Weasley turned up at Grimmauld Place. He informed the Order of your kidnapping, but by the time we arrived at the warehouse you were gone and to our surprise the Ministry of Magic were already at the scene. Cornelius Fudge informed me that you, Harry, had been seen murdering a muggle and had been taken to Azkaban prison.

"Of course, I called for your trial to be held immediately. I could have simply gone to Azkaban six days ago and taken you. We could have hidden from the Ministry; the Order would have supported us. But that is not a life I wanted for you. I did not want to be the man who dragged you into life as a fugitive. Sirius Black would not have wanted that for you and neither would your parents."

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

"So, I played by the rules and waited for your trial," Dumbledore continued, "I was very anxious about waiting six days, but I had no idea of how you were being treated. If I had known, Harry, I assure you I would have come sooner."

"But surely the Ministry doesn't usually treat their prisoners like ... like that," asked Harry bitterly.

"Of course not. It was only this morning that I realised something was very wrong. When we arrived at your trial, we were told that you would not be present. The Ministry believes that you attempted to escape..."

"What?" Harry nearly choked on his hot chocolate. This was all sounding more insane by the second.

"I was told that you had been placed in maximum security and would not be allowed to attend you trail."

Harry could hear the edge in Dumbledore's voice, which assured him Dumbledore was on his side in all this.

"Thankfully, with Ron Weasley's testimony, we were able to have you released. But I have to warn you, the Ministry still believes you killed the man. With evidence of the kidnapping, it was decided that you had acted in self-defence."

"But I didn't kill anyone," Harry pleaded desperately.  "There was a Death Eater ..."

"I know, Harry, I am on your side, remember. But we had to get you out of there. They refused to believe Ron's testimony. It was suggested that he was simply covering up for you. There was strong evidence that he was a witness - his wand was found at the scene. But his testimony of the actual murder was dismissed. Our only choice was to plead for self-defence. I told the Wizengamot that if you _had_ managed to kill the muggle, it must have been as a last resort. They finally agreed to release you, pending further investigation."

"But I thought you had been re-elected Chief Warlock?" Harry asked. None of this was making any sense.

"Yes, but the Wizengamot is falling apart under the pressure. I have managed to right a few wrongs over the last few weeks, including clearing Sirius Black's name ..."

Harry looked away at the sound of his godfather's name.

"But when it comes to activity from Voldemort's Death Eater's," Dumbledore continued, "the court members are easily misled. They would prefer to accept the word of some unknown witness of Fudge's, than accept that the Death Eater's have already begun killing innocent muggles. But I daresay it will not be long before their eyes are opened to reality.

"So, do not worry, Harry. Everything will work out in the end. For now, it is simply a relief to have you back in the safety of the school."

They both sat in silence for several minutes. Harry was slowly digesting everything Dumbledore had told him. But he had many unanswered questions. It was all very confusing and his head was beginning to throb again.

A knock on the door interrupted the silence.

"Come in," Dumbledore commanded.

The door opened and McGonagall entered the office again.

"I've come for Mr Potter."

"Ah, thank you, Minerva," Dumbledore smiled up at her.  "Are the others on their way?"

"Yes, they will be here soon," she replied, strolling over to Harry's chair and holding out her hand.  "Now come along, Potter, let's get you cleaned up."

Harry took her hand and got shakily to his feet. His head swam uncomfortably and for a moment he was worried he might be sick. McGonagall kept a tight grasp on his hand and led him towards the exit.

"We shall talk again later," Dumbledore called out to Harry, who turned his head briefly to look back at the blurred outline of his headmaster.

McGonagall led Harry out of the office and down the staircase, which moved continuously like a spiral escalator. They stepped off the staircase into the corridor below and McGonagall steered Harry through a series of corridors and staircases until they reached the hospital wing.

As soon as they entered the ward, Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse, began fussing over Harry. She led him into the bathroom, where she had drawn him a hot bubble bath. She handed him a fluffy white towel and a soft bath robe, and closed the door behind her.

Harry removed his jeans and t-shirt, which was not an easy task as they had glued themselves to his skin. He threw his filthy clothes into a pile on the floor and stepped into the hot water. Then he lay down, sinking into the thick comfortable mass of bubbles.


	8. Chapter Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT

Over an hour later, Harry was clean and warm and sitting alone in his dormitory in the Gryffindor tower.  Madam Pomfrey had tried to make him stay in the hospital wing but Harry had been keen to be alone again.  She had satisfied herself by to forcing him to take some Pepper-Up potion and eat a bar of chocolate before he left.

He now sat on his four poster bed, still wearing the cosy bath robe, as the sun set slowly on the horizon. There was still about three weeks until the start of term and Harry was unsure whether he would be able to stay at Hogwarts until then or if he would be sent back to Privet Drive.  He lay back on the soft bed and stared up at the canopy ceiling.

The door to the dormitory opened.  Harry rolled over on his bed and blinked at the doorway.  Three figures entered the room.

"Harry!"  Hermione ran over to the bed and pulled Harry into a crushing hug.  Harry could feel that she was crying.

Ron crossed the room and placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder.  Eventually she pulled away and brushed her tear-soaked hair out of her face.

"We've been so worried," she sobbed.

"I'm really sorry I left you," said Ron.  "I should never have left ..."

"Don't be stupid," Harry interrupted him.

"Here."  Ron handed Harry his glasses.  "Hermione found them outside the Leaky Cauldron."

Harry took them gratefully and pushed them onto his face.  Finally the world around him came back into focus.  Then he remembered that three people had entered the room and looked around quickly.  He caught sight of Ginny's flaming red hair lurking in the corner of the room.  She was looking around awkwardly, obviously feeling as if she was intruding on the three friends.

"Oh, before I forget," Ron continued, "I've got your wand here as well."

He dug a hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out Harry's wand.  Harry took it gladly.

"Mum and Dad had to buy me another one," Ron laughed weakly.  "They weren't too happy about it, though.  I'm on my third wand in five years!"

"We've brought your things with us," said Hermione.  "Lupin went to your aunt and uncle's house to collect them."

"I wish I could've seen that," Harry grinned.  "So, am I supposed to just hang around here until school starts?"

"I guess," said Ron.  "But don't worry, we'll be here to keep you company!"

"You're staying?"

"Of course we are," replied Hermione, who now wore a broad smile on her damp face.  "Dumbledore said we could all stay here for the last three weeks of summer."

*****

Although Harry had originally thought he wanted to be alone, he found he was glad to have the company of his friends.  They spent the next few days relaxing in the Gryffindor common room, or walking through the empty school grounds.  Harry thoroughly enjoyed being in a Hogwarts empty of students.  His friends were always happy to leave him alone when he wanted time to himself and were always there when he wanted company.

They ate their meals in the common room, often joined by McGonagall, who appeared to be staying at Hogwarts to keep an eye on them.  Dumbledore had been called away from the castle on their first evening and had not yet returned.

After a week of lazing around and doing as little as possible, Hermione started trying to force them to study, without much success.  One particularly warm afternoon, Harry was watching her lecturing Ron on the importance of his NEWT exams, while Ron was pleading with her to relax.

"Hermione, listen," Ron was saying.  "We have two years to study for the NEWT's."

"You said that same thing about the OWL's two years ago," Hermione fought back, "and you still came running to me when you realised you'd left it all until the last minute!"

"Harry," Ginny whispered in his ear, "do you want to go for a walk ... get away from those two for a bit?"

 Harry was glad for an excuse to escape Ron and Hermione's bickering.  He got up quietly, brushing Crookshanks, Hermione's ginger, bandy-legged cat, off his lap and followed Ginny out of the common room.  Ron and Hermione did not seem to notice them leave and their argument was still in full flow as the portrait of the Fat Lady, which guarded the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, swung shut.

Harry and Ginny walked in silence along the corridor and down the staircase to the Entrance Hall.  They stepped out into the grounds and were greeted by a bright, warm sun, which glittered magically across the lake surrounding the castle.  Ginny led the way down to the water's edge and sat in the shade of a tall birch tree.

"Thos two are really annoying me," she said, while absent-mindedly picking at the grass around her.

Harry sat down opposite her and watched the sun dance playfully across the surface of the lake.

"I wish they would just hurry up and get together," she continued, "it's so obvious they like each other."

She began picking up small stones and trying to make them skim across the surface of the water.  Harry continued to watch her in silence.  He had never really thought about Ron and Hermione liking each other.  All they ever seemed to do was argue.  But then, they did spend a lot of time together, at school and during the holidays.

"I didn't realise they liked each other, _that_ way," he said finally.

"Oh, well neither of them would admit it," replied Ginny, "but it's just, you know, like they're _meant_ for each other.  Ron needs someone who'll keep him in line.  Hermione's even started writing his letters for him - she told me it was because he's too lazy to write them himself, but I think she secretly enjoys it."

Harry thought back to the letters he had received at Privet Drive this summer.  Then he realised that every one of them had been written by Hermione, who had signed them on Ron's behalf.

"So, are you still going out with Dean Thomas?" he asked in an attempt to change the subject.  He felt slightly uncomfortable discussing his best friend's love life with his sister.

"I think so," Ginny replied uncertainly, "but I haven't really spoken to him much.  I wrote to him a couple of times but when I saw him at the Leaky Cauldron he just ignored me."

Harry looked away awkwardly and searched his brain for a new subject.

"Um ... so, did you get a prefect badge?" he asked finally, remembering that Ginny was entering her fifth year at Hogwarts, the year in which prefects were chosen.

"No, thank goodness," said Ginny brightly.  "I wouldn't want the hassle!  I think if Ron was honest, he would admit the only good thing about a prefect badge is the present you get from Mum and Dad.  Prefect duties are for people like Hermione.  I'd much rather be Quidditch Captain one day ..."

Harry and Ginny spent the rest of the afternoon sitting in the cool shade and chatting about school and Quidditch.  When the sun disappeared completely behind the surrounding mountains, they gave in to the chilly evening air and walked back up to the castle.  On the way, Harry chanced a look at Hagrid's cabin which sat at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.  His heart sunk when he realised it was still empty.  There had been no sign of Hagrid all week and when Harry had asked, McGonagall had swiftly changed the subject, in much the same way as she did when anyone asked after Dumbledore.

They returned to the common room to find Ron and Hermione sitting in mutual silence by the fire.  Ron was polishing his Cleansweep Eleven broomstick and Hermione was reading a copy of '_The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 6_ by Miranda Goshawk.'

"And where have you two been?" Ron asked in a very patronising tone.

"Just down by the lake," replied Harry, throwing himself into his favourite chintz armchair.

Hermione peered over the top of her book but said nothing.

"Fancy a game of Wizard Chess?" asked Ron eagerly.

They spent the rest of the evening in just the same way they had spent the last few evenings; sitting in the common room together, whiling away the hours until they all got bored enough to go to bed.

It was only nine o'clock when Harry decided to retire that evening.  He said goodnight to the others and ascended the stairs to the sixth year boy's dormitory.  He changed into his pyjamas and slid beneath the cool sheets in his four-poster bed.  He had just closed his eyes when the door opened and Ron tip-toed into the room.

"It's OK, I'm still awake," Harry assured him.  He sat back up in his bed and pushed his glasses back onto his face.

"Hermione started whinging at me again, so I decided to come to bed," groaned Ron.  "Have you noticed how boring it is here?"

Harry grinned.  He had been thinking exactly the same thing.

"Well, it's not as boring as living with the Dursley's," he said, thinking back to the long boring days he had spent staring at his bedroom ceiling in Privet Drive.

"Still, I'm kind of looking forward to school starting," said Ron, getting into his own bed.  "Well, I'm not looking forward to the work, but it'll be great to play Quidditch again, don't you think?"

"Yeah, if I'm allowed to play," said Harry glumly.  He thought back to last year when he had been given a life-time Quidditch ban.  But Dolores Umbridge, their ex-Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, who had stood in as headmistress for the last part of the year, had now been demoted and Harry was unsure if the ban still stood.

"I'm sure they'll let you play, mate," Ron reassured him, "McGonagall will see to it.  We're rubbish without you playing Seeker."

"So, I guess your mum must be happy to have Percy back," said Harry, attempting to steer the conversation away from Quidditch.  He did not want to give himself any false hopes in that area.

"Yeah, I suppose," Ron said unconvincingly.

"What's the matter?"

"It's just a bit ... dodgy," said Ron sheepishly.  "Don't get me wrong, Mum's dead happy that he's made up with them.  But everyone talks about him like he's an angel or something.  I seem to be the only one who still thinks he's a complete pratt.  I mean, what he did last year was out of order - I just don't trust him anymore."

They both fell into a thoughtful silence.  Harry lay back down and stared up at his canopy ceiling.  His eyelids felt heavy as his mind wandered from Percy back to thoughts of playing Quidditch again, flying high on his broomstick, the wind in his face...

In the distance he was vaguely aware that Ron had got out of bed.  Harry rolled over and watched Ron creep over to the lamp which was still burning in the far corner of the room.  Then, as if he could read Harry's thoughts, Ron hesitated:

"Oh ... er ... do you want me to leave it on?"

Harry could feel his face burning with embarrassment and he turned away.  Every night during the last week, Harry had gone to bed after Ron and 'forgotten' to turn the lamp off.  He had hoped that Ron would not notice, or just not say anything.

"No, um, it's OK," he stammered uncomfortably, "you can turn it off."

He felt so stupid.  He had never been afraid of the dark.  It was pathetic.  He had spent ten years of his life sleeping in the cupboard under the stairs at the Dursley's.  You could not get much darker than that.

Ron retraced his steps and got back into bed, leaving the lamp burning dimly in the corner.  They lay in silence again for several minutes.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"  Harry rolled over to look at Ron.

"I really am sorry about leaving you there - no, let me finish," he added, as Harry opened his mouth to object.  "I just wish I'd had more time to think, things could've been different."

"Honestly, mate, I don't blame you," Harry reassured him.  "It's not your fault.  I blame those idiots at the Ministry.  Obviously someone's pulling the wool over their eyes and they have no idea."

"I asked my Dad who's guarding Azkaban now that the Dementors have left the island, but he just said he couldn't tell me."  Ron looked incredibly insulted by his father's lack of trust.

"Well, whoever it is, they're not doing their job properly," said Harry bitterly.

Ron grunted his agreement.

"I wish Dumbledore would hurry up and get back," Harry grumbled, more to himself than to Ron.


	9. Chapter Nine

CHAPTER NINE

The sun had barely escaped from behind the mountains when Harry awoke the next morning.  Ron was still fast asleep, snoring quietly behind his bed hangings.  Harry got up and dressed in the dim morning sunlight.

As he descended the stairs and entered the common room, he saw something moving in one of the chairs by the fire.

"Hermione?" he whispered to the back of the chair.

Hermione lifted her bushy head and blinked up at Harry.  "I must've fallen asleep," she mumbled, stifling a yawn.

Harry took the seat across from her and looked around the small table between them which was covered in books and pieces of parchment.

"Just a little bit of research," she said, seeing the look on Harry's face.

"Research for what?" Harry asked.

"Oh, just stuff for the NEWT's," she replied, while hastily gathering up the pieces of parchment and closing the books.

Harry decided it best not to ask any more questions about what she had been doing all night.  He did not want one of her lectures about how he should be studying more and how he and Ron wasted too much time playing Wizard Chess or Exploding Snap or anything else they could occupy themselves with.

"I wonder where Dumbledore's got to," he said, expressing in a casual tone the one thing that had been on his mind all night.

"I'm sure he's just really busy," Hermione replied.  "I mean, the meeting at the Leaky Cauldron is the only time I've seen him all summer.  And what with everything that's happened recently, I'm sure he hasn't had much spare time."

"I guess," said Harry.  "It's just, the night he brought me back here he said he would talk to me again later.  Then he disappeared without a word.  I just wish I could've asked him a few more questions."

"Like what?"  Hermione sat up attentively and rubbed her eyes.

"I dunno," Harry mumbled.  "I've just been finding it difficult to piece things together."

Crookshanks appeared at Harry's feet and began rubbing across his ankles.  Harry picked him up and placed him in his lap.  Crookshanks pawed gently at the legs of Harry's jeans, then curled up into a ball, purring contently.

"I know what you mean," said Hermione thoughtfully.  "Ron hasn't spoken much about what happened in the warehouse, but from what I've heard it sounds ... well, strange.  I mean, why did that muggle kidnap you?  Why didn't the Death Eater kill you?  Why set you up like that?"

"I guess they just wanted me to rot in Azkaban," said Harry bitterly.

"I don't know.  That just doesn't make any sense.  The Death Eater could have killed you easily.  No, it's like they were trying to keep you for something.  I just can't figure out what."

"I wish we knew who was guarding Azkaban," said Harry.

"That would be interesting to know," replied Hermione, rising from her chair.  "I'm going to get changed."  She stifled another yawn and began climbing the staircase to the girls' dormitories.  She stopped halfway up the staircase, by a small window which overlooked the grounds.  

"Hey, Harry," she called excitedly.  "Looks like Hagrid's back.  There's smoke coming out of his chimney."

Harry leapt to his feet, accidentally knocking Crookshanks to the floor in his haste.  Crookshanks mewed angrily at him, jumped back into the empty chair and curled up into a ball again.

Harry ran excitedly to the common room window and looked out across the grounds to Hagrid's hut.  There was definitely smoke coming out of the chimney.

"Go on," Hermione called down to him from the stairs.  "I'll come down later when Ron and Ginny wake up."

Harry grinned up at her then turned and ran across to the portrait hole.  He scrambled through and headed straight for the stairs to the Entrance Hall, which he took two at a time.  

As soon as he stepped out of the castle he could feel the heat of the sun on his face.  It was a gorgeous day.  He sprinted across to the hut on the edge of the forest and tapped lightly on the door.  He was greeted by a booming bark and when the door opened, Fang, Hagrid's over-sized boarhound, leapt at Harry so hard that he was knocked to the ground.

"Fang, gerroff."  Hagrid pulled Fang back inside the hut and grinned down at Harry.  "Was wonderin' how long it'd take yeh ter visit me."

Harry scrambled to his feet and followed Hagrid inside the hut.  Everything inside Hagrid's home was as enormous as Hagrid himself.  Harry sat down on one of the large chairs surrounding the big wooden table in the centre of the room.

"Cuppa tea?"  Hagrid indicated the large copper kettle that was hanging in the fireplace.

Harry nodded.  Fang wandered over and sat at Harry's feet, resting his slobbery chin on Harry's lap.  Harry automatically began stroking Fang behind the ears.

"Did you get back last night?" he asked.

"Yep," Hagrid replied, pouring milk into Harry's tea.  "Jus' a few hours ago."

"Where've you been?" Harry asked daringly.

Hagrid shook his big, grizzly-haired head.  "Now yeh know I can' discuss it wiv yeh," he said gruffly.  "Jus' some business fer the Order.  Soon as I 'erd you was kidnapped, I was gonna come straigh' back.  Bu' Dumbledore tol' me ter stay where I was.  Said it were all under control.  

"Bu' I spoke ter him since an' he tol' me wha' 'appened.  Filthy scoun'rels at the Minis'ry.  There's a lotter conivin' goin' on there if y'ask me.  Riddled wiv Death Eater's already ..." He trailed off and began hastily drinking his tea out of a cup the size of a bucket.  "Bu' you ain't gotta worry 'bout tha'," he continued.  "You jus' need ter concentrate on yeh school work an' let us do the worryin'."

"You sound like Hermione," Harry groaned.  "All she ever talks about is school work.  School hasn't even started yet."

"Yeah, well yeh star' yeh NEWT's classes this year.  Yeh go' a tough couple o' years ahead o' yeh."

"I don't care about the NEWT's.  I just wish I wasn't being accused of a murder I didn't commit."

They were interrupted by a knock at the door.  Fang lifted his head from Harry's lap and barked loudly.  Hagrid got to his feet, his chair groaning from the release of weight, and opened the door to reveal Hermione, Ron and Ginny waiting eagerly on the other side.

"Come in," said Hagrid happily.

The three of them entered the hut and joined Harry at the table.  Ginny sat down gingerly and looked apprehensively around the one-roomed hut.  Harry was not sure if Ginny had ever been inside Hagrid's hut before.  He caught her eye and she grinned at him.  He looked away.

"So, where've you been, Hagrid?"  Ron repeated Harry's question.

 "Now come on, like I said ter Harry, I can' tell yeh.  Jus' some work fer the Order.  Now, who else wan's a cuppa?"

They ended up spending most of the day with Hagrid, helping him weed the pumpkin patch and clean out some old crates, which Harry was sure Hagrid had used to house some Blast-Ended Skrewts in their fourth year.

By the time they arrived back in the Gryffindor common room that evening they were completely exhausted and very hungry - Hagrid's cooking left much to be desired, so they had not eaten much for lunch.

They had barely sat down in the moth-eaten armchairs when McGonagall came bustling in.

"I thought I would join you for dinner again tonight," she announced, taking a seat in an empty armchair.  "I trust you already know that Hagrid is back."

"Yeah, we've been down there all day," Ron replied.  As he spoke, the small table in front of them filled suddenly with dishes of steaming food.  Everyone began immediately dishing themselves plates of chicken, rice, jacket potatoes and other delicious items of food.

"Professor?" Harry spoke quietly to McGonagall as he helped himself to a chicken drumstick.  "I was just wondering if you'd heard from Dumbledore.  I thought he might be back by now."

"Sorry, Potter, but the headmaster hasn't been in contact with me recently.  But I expect he will be back soon."

"Do you know where he went?"  Harry knew he was pushing the subject a little too far, but he did not care.  He was really anxious to speak to Dumbledore again.

"Even if I did know, I could not tell you," McGonagall replied simply, pursing her lips slightly.

Harry decided to leave the subject there.  He did not want to test McGonagall's patience with him any further.

They all ate in relative silence; the only sound was the constant crunching and chewing of their mouths.  Ron let out a small belch, then turned scarlet and quickly apologised.  McGonagall let a small grin sneak across her usually taut face.

Harry licked the last scrap of custard off his dessert spoon and threw it back into his bowl defeatedly.  "I'm stuffed," he announced in a satisfied tone.

The dirty plates and scraps of leftovers vanished from the table.

"Well, thank you all for a pleasant meal."  McGonagall rose from her chair.  "But I should be returning to my study.  I have a lot of work to catch up on and it's only two weeks until term starts."  

She was about to climb through the portrait hole when she stopped dead in her tracks.  She was listening to something.  Harry strained his ears.  He could hear it, too.  It sounded like people arguing in the corridor outside.

"What the ...?"  McGonagall seemed unsure as to wether she should open the portrait or not.  She slid her wand out from the inside of her robes.  Instinctively the others followed suit, rising from their seats, wands held out ready.  With slight difficulty McGonagall climbed into the portrait hole and swung the portrait open, her wand still held steadily in front of her.

"Lupin!" she exclaimed.  "What are you doing here?"  She backed up into the common room again to let Lupin enter.

Lupin crawled inside and stood up next to her.  He looked a mess.  His robes were torn and partly singed, his hair dishevelled and his face black and filthy.  He was panting heavily, as if he had just run a long distance.

"Stupid ... portrait.  Didn't ... know ... password," he said, struggling to catch his breath.  "Been ... attacked ... Grimmauld Place ... gone."


	10. Chapter Ten

CHAPTER TEN 

McGonagall led Lupin over to the fireplace where he collapsed into one of the old armchairs.

"What happened?" she asked, pouring Lupin a glass of water.

Lupin took the glass with a shaking hand and drank heavily.  "It all happened so … so fast.  There were Death Eaters everywhere."

Harry stood completely still, his wand still held out in front of him, as if expecting to be ambushed at any moment.

"Was …" McGonagall sounded extremely anxious, too.  "Was anybody … hurt?"

Harry knew this was not what she meant; she was really asking if anyone had been killed.

"I … I … I don't know," Lupin stammered almost incoherently, his eyes were glazed and unfocused, he seemed very shocked and confused.  "We were having a meeting, just a small one, to discuss basic stuff, guard duties and that sort of thing.  There was me, Tonks, Shacklebolt, Mundungus, Podmore …" He looked as though he was mentally ticking them off.  "And … er …" He looked briefly at Ron and Ginny.  "And Arthur and Molly Weasley …"

"So, what happened?  Where are they?" Ron demanded.

"It all happened so fast."  Lupin took another deep gulp of his water.  "They just appeared, all at once, surrounding us.  We began fighting back, but we were outnumbered."

"Then what?" pressed Ron.

"I … I don't know," Lupin repeated.  "I was cornered by three of them.  I had no choice but to Dissapperate."  He looked desperately at the others, as if asking for confirmation that he had done the right thing.  "I Apperated into the street outside.  I would have gone back in, but before I had a chance … the house … the house was destroyed, reduced to rubble in an instant."

Ron gulped loudly.  Ginny sank into one of the worn armchairs.  Harry continued to stand silently, his wand now held limply at his side.

"I searched what was left of the house, but there was nothing," Lupin continued.  "So I Apperated into Hogsmeade and came straight to the castle.  This is the official reserve headquarters for the Order.  I was hoping everyone else would turn up here …"

"So where are they?" Ron shouted angrily.

"Ron!" said Hermione weakly.  "Please, Ron, don't panic.  They'll turn up."

Ron looked wildly around the room.  "They will, will they?  How do you know, Hermione?  Eh?"

"I'm just trying to help.  Worrying won't do us any good."  Hermione shrunk into a chair.

"Well, I'm sorry to _worry_ you," said Ron sarcastically.

"STOP ARGUING!"

Ginny was standing up again, her face red with anger, her eyes sharp and watery.

"Sorry," Ron mumbled.  "But we have to do something.  Maybe they've gone home to the Burrow …"

"Lupin's right," said McGonagall briskly.  "The protocol in this situation is to regroup at Hogwarts.  We must wait here for them."

"But what if they've been captured?"  Harry finally found his voice.

"We must wait here," McGonagall repeated.  "I will call the Order in.  We will know more when everyone is here."  She crossed the common room to the portrait hole.  "I will return shortly.  Stay here."

No one spoke for several minutes after McGonagall left the room.  Lupin continued to sip at his glass of water, clutching it possessively and avoiding the gaze of the people around him.

Harry wandered over to the window and looked out into the dark grounds.  In the faint moonlight he saw the door to Hagrid's hut open.  Hagrid's large form emerged from inside and began traipsing across the grass towards the castle.

"Lupin?" Hermione asked gently.  "What about Buckbeak?"

Harry turned from the window to see Lupin lower his glass and shake his head slowly.

"He escaped from the bedroom and tried to attack some of the Death Eaters," said Lupin quietly.  "He didn't make it."

Harry felt a tremendous weight pressing on his chest when he heard this news.  He and Hermione had rescued Buckbeak the Hippogriff from being murdered two years ago.  Ever since, Buckbeak had been a close companion to Sirius.

"What about Kreacher?" Hermione asked apprehensively.

"Kreacher disappeared several days ago."  Lupin looked slightly angry when he said this.

"He was given clothes?"  Hermione sounded excited.

"He doesn't need clothes.  Sirius was the last of the Black family.  Now that he's …" Lupin stopped briefly and looked at Harry, who turned back to the dark window.  "Now that he's gone, Kreacher does not serve anyone.  He is free to find a new master."

"So why was he still at Grimmauld Place when I was there a couple of weeks ago?" Hermione asked.

Lupin sighed deeply.  "I think he was reluctant to leave.  Several generations of his family have served in that house.  And there's still the portrait of Sirius's mother in the hall, which barks insane orders at him as if she was still alive.  But we woke up one morning last week and he was gone."

"So, he must've told the Death Eaters where to find the headquarters," Ron said conclusively.

Lupin shook his head.  "Dumbledore is the Secret Keeper for the Order.  He is the only one who can reveal the whereabouts of the headquarters."

The portrait swung open again and they all turned to look as McGonagall crawled back inside the common room.

"Are my parents here yet?" Ron asked hastily.

McGonagall pursed her lips, then said quietly, "No, not yet."  She turned quickly to Lupin.  "The members of the Order are arriving as we speak.  I need you to tell them what happened."

"Alright."  Lupin got slowly to his feet and led the way out of the common room.

Ron made to follow Lupin but McGonagall put out a long, thin arm to stop him.  "You four will stay here," she said.

"No," said Ron forcefully.  "I want to know what you're doing to find my parents!"

"Ron, please, just stay here."  Hermione had risen from her chair and taken hold of Ron's arm.  "I'm sure the Order will do everything they can."

"I'm sorry, Mr Weasley," said McGonagall, "but you are not in the Order.  I will keep you informed, but you cannot attend the meeting."  She turned and followed Lupin through the hole.  The portrait swung shut behind her.

Ron shook Hermione's hand off his arm and continued defiantly towards the exit.

"No."  Hermione grabbed hold of his arm again.  "It's better if we do as we're told and stay here."

Ron swung around and stared Hermione in the face.  "You may not care that my parents are missing, but I do!"

"Of course I care!"  Hermione looked extremely hurt.  "I just think we should stay here and let the Order take care of things.  I mean, what else can we do?  We wouldn't know where to start!"

Harry could see that these words had hit Ron hard.  There was nothing they could do.  Ron stared blankly at Hermione for a moment more before pushing past her and storming angrily up the stairs to the boys' dormitories.

Harry looked around the common room at the two girls.  Hermione was still standing near the portrait hole looking shocked and upset.  Ginny was still sitting in an armchair near the fireplace with a distant look on her face which reminded Harry strangely of the vague look that was permanently plastered on Luna Lovegood's face.

"Maybe I should … ?"  He did not finish his question or wait for an answer.  He would much rather go and check on Ron than attempt to console Hermione or Ginny.  He was not very good at comforting girls.

He turned and ascended the stairs to his and Ron's dormitory.  He entered to find Ron staring moodily out of the window.

"I'm, er, sure they'll turn up, mate," said Harry awkwardly.  This was harder than he had thought.

"That's great," said Ron sarcastically.  "Really great."

Harry edged further into the room.  "What do you mean?"  It was not like Ron to be so short with him.  Harry was beginning to wish he had tried his luck with the girls.

Ron turned from the window and looked Harry in the face.  "They're not going to just _turn up_."

"Well, they might," said Harry quietly.  He was now feeling very uncomfortable.  He had no idea what to say and was sure that whatever he did say would be the wrong thing.

"No, they won't.  They would be here by now.  Something's happened to them."  Ron turned back to the window.

"I … I'm sorry.  I know how you must be feeling …"

"How do you know?"  Ron swung back to face Harry again.  "How do you know how I'm _feeling_?"

"I … well … I … er …"

"My parents are missing and the stupid Order are wasting time having a meeting about it!"  Ron's eyes were wild with anger.

"They have to start somewhere …"

"JUST SHUP UP, HARRY!"

Harry closed his mouth obediently.  He looked quizzically at Ron who continued to glare back at him.  

"This is all your fault!" Ron shouted.  "I know the Death Eaters are after you!  I'm not stupid.  They need you for something – that's why the Death Eater in the warehouse didn't kill you."

Ron paused and Harry wanted to say something.  But Ron was right and Hermione had said the same thing this morning.  Harry opened his mouth then closed it again stupidly.

"And now they're attacking the Order to get at you," Ron continued.  "And my parents are probably dead … and it's your fault!"

Harry felt a horrible, sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach.  "I … I don't think your parents are … d- dead," he stammered.

"How do you know?" Ron demanded fiercely.

Good point.  How did he know?  He was not sure why or how, but somehow he just _knew_ they were still alive.

"Maybe I should … ?" He began backing up towards the door.

"Yeah, maybe you should," Ron spat.

Harry turned away and ran out of the room.  He was halfway down the dimly-lit staircase when he realised that he did not want to return to the common room to face Hermione and Ginny, and he stopped himself.  He slumped against the hard wall and slid down it until he was sitting on the cold stone steps.

_This is all my fault_, he repeated over and over again in his mind.  He felt terrible.  Ron hated him and Harry could not blame him.  _This is all my fault_.  He closed his eyes and stared hard at the dark insides of his eyelids.  _This is all my fault_.


	11. Chapter Eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN  
  
"What's your fault?"  
  
Harry opened his eyes, though it made no difference. Everything around him was suddenly very dark. He could barely see his hands in front of his face.  
  
"Who's there?" He looked around blindly in the darkness. He could just make out the faint outline of someone standing over him. The figure stepped closer and dropped into a crouching position, only inches from Harry's face.  
  
Harry suddenly felt a familiar wave of warmth and comfort wash over him. He could not see the person's face but he was almost certain he knew who was there.  
  
"Sirius?"  
  
"Shh."  
  
"Sorry," Harry whispered, though he was not sure why they had to whisper.  
  
"So, why are you sleeping on the stairs?"  
  
"I'm not . I just ." Harry sighed and tilted his head back so that it was resting against the hard wall behind him. "Ron's mad at me."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"His parents are . missing. Some Death Eaters found your house - we don't know how - but I know they were looking for me." Harry growled quietly through his clenched teeth. "Why can't they just leave me alone for five seconds?"  
  
"Why are they suddenly so keen to find you?"  
  
"How should I know?" Harry barked back. "Sorry," he added quickly. "But I don't know. Unless ."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Well ." Harry hesitated. He did not know why but he was afraid to voice the possibility. Somehow, saying it out loud would make it all the more possible. But he knew he could not hide anything from Sirius. "Unless they've found out what the prophecy said. That would make sense. They would know that I am the only one who can kill Voldemort, and he . he is the only one who can kill me. That's it!"  
  
"Harry?"  
  
The voice was not his godfather's. Harry opened his eyes and blinked up at the girl standing over him.  
  
"Who are you talking to?" Hermione asked tentatively.  
  
"No one," Harry mumbled. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"I was on my way to bed and I heard you talking to someone." Hermione sat down on the step below Harry and frowned up at him.  
  
"I wasn't talking to anyone." Harry wished she would stop looking at him.  
  
"You said something about Voldemort." She narrowed her eyes as she continued to stare fixedly at Harry's face, as though trying to figure him out.  
  
Harry wanted to deny it but he knew he could not lie to Hermione; she always knew when he was not being truthful. "I was just . working it out."  
  
"Tell me. I'd like to listen," she said softly. "You need to talk to people more."  
  
Harry thought about arguing with her. He wanted to tell her that he did not need to talk to her; that he did not need to talk to anyone. But all he managed was a deep sigh.  
  
"You know the prophecy that the Death Eaters were after in the Department of Mysteries?"  
  
Hermione nodded slowly.  
  
"Well, I know what it said." He avoided looking at Hermione when he said this.  
  
"How? I thought the prophecy had smashed?"  
  
"It did," Harry replied grimly. "But that doesn't mean it's gone. I heard it from the horses mouth, so to speak." He chanced a glance at Hermione, who continued to stare intently back at him. "Dumbledore kind of showed it to me. He was the one who heard it originally."  
  
"So, what did it say?" Hermione sounded intrigued.  
  
"Nothing good," he said simply. He was beginning to wish this conversation had never begun.  
  
"You can tell me," Hermione urged.  
  
"Why? What good will it do?" Harry got to his feet and stormed angrily past Hermione and down the steps to the empty common room. He dropped himself onto a comfortable sofa and thought vaguely of the possibility of spending the night in the common room. He could not go back to the dormitory.  
  
He felt the sofa strain under the weight of a second person and was not surprised when he turned his head to see Hermione sitting quietly next to him, staring blankly at the fireplace.  
  
"Go away," Harry found himself saying.  
  
"No."  
  
Harry closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again. "You don't want to know."  
  
"Yes, I do."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because I want to help you, Harry," she said desperately. "You never talk to anyone and you keep everything bottled up inside. I want you to talk to me!"  
  
"FINE!" Harry shouted, rising from his seat and towering over Hermione. "You want me to talk to you? You want me to tell you that I'm the only one who can kill Voldemort? You want me to tell you that the only way he can survive is if he kills me?"  
  
"I'm sorry." Hermione's voice shook and she looked as though she was fighting the urge to cry.  
  
"Why are you sorry?" Harry continued to shout. "I'm the one who's sorry. I'm sorry I was ever born! I haven't done anybody any good and I never will. I can't kill Voldemort. That's impossible! And he's going to keep on killing everyone around me until he finally kills me!"  
  
"Don't talk like that," said Hermione desperately, tears now spilling down her cheeks.  
  
Harry wanted to shout some more but he felt deflated. He continued to stand over Hermione until he finally admitted defeat and sunk back down onto the sofa next to her. He lifted his feet up, drew his knees into his chest and buried his face behind his legs. He felt Hermione's arm slide behind his back and she pulled him close to her.  
  
They remained like this for a long time. Neither of them spoke but Hermione continued to cry quietly onto Harry's shoulder. Harry felt a great sense of relief to have told Hermione but he also felt terrible for placing such a burden on her.  
  
"You can do it, Harry," she said suddenly. "You can kill him, you know."  
  
Harry lifted his head and looked into Hermione's face. She looked so determined; he did not know what to say to her. "I . I can't ." he stammered.  
  
"You can! I know you can!" She gripped his shoulder tightly. "And I'll be there to help you."  
  
*****  
  
The next two weeks seemed to disappear before Harry's eyes. The more he dreaded school starting, the closer the first day loomed.  
  
Ron was still not talking to him. Harry spent the night of the attack on Grimmauld Place on the sofa. But Hermione had argued extensively with both Ron and Harry on the subject and Harry had resolved to return to the dormitory, if only to stop her shouting at him. But he and Ron still spent every night in mutual silence and avoided each other as much as possible during the day.  
  
Ginny had become very withdrawn. She spent most days shut away in her dormitory, coming down to the common room only at mealtimes, when she ate in silence and returned to her room as soon as she finished eating. Harry was surprised to find that he understood her desire to be alone. He even told Hermione to stop pressuring her to talk and to just give her some space. Hermione had grinned at him when he said this and told him she was glad he had developed some sensitivity over the summer. He was not too sure what she had meant, but he did not ask her to elaborate.  
  
Harry found the school even more boring than before, when he had at least had Ron to occupy him. He became so bored that he resorted to reading some of Hermione's books, though he did not absorb much of what he read.  
  
They had not heard much from the Order since the night of the attack. Bill and Percy had paid them a visit the following day and told them that the Order were doing everything in their power to find Mr and Mrs Weasley, Tonks, Shacklebolt, Mundungus and Podmore. Even the Ministry were helping out, though Bill said this was only because some of their staff were involved, including two of their Aurors, so they had to be seen to be doing something.  
  
Bill and Percy had not stayed long. They seemed eager to get out and help with the search. Hagrid had gone with them. McGonagall stayed at the castle but spent almost all of her time working in her office. She did not even join them for dinner anymore. And there was still no sign of Dumbledore.  
  
"You two are so stupid," Hermione observed as Ron and Harry sat in the common room with her the night before school started.  
  
Harry scowled at her over the top of his book. Ron grunted and continued polishing his broomstick, which Harry thought was stupid, as he had not flown on it for weeks.  
  
"I'm fed up with this," she continued. "It's ridiculous. Ron, you know it's not Harry's fault that your parents are missing."  
  
"Shut up, Hermione," said Ron warningly.  
  
"No, I won't," she replied defiantly. "Harry's your best friend. You can't treat him like this. It's not fair."  
  
"I can treat him however I like!" Ron continued to talk about Harry as if he was not there. "It's his fault my parents are missing! It's always his fault. I hate him!"  
  
Harry had succeeded in ignoring Ron's nasty words until now, but somehow this last outburst had really cut deep. Harry threw the book onto the table, got silently out of his armchair and headed straight for the boys' dormitories. He had only reached the second step when he stopped suddenly.  
  
A sharp pain had seared across his scar. He clamped a hand to his forehead. Then it happened again, worse than before. His legs gave way and he dropped heavily to his knees. And again the pain cut across his skull, causing bright white spots to dance across his vision. He squeezed his eyes shut.  
  
Then it was gone and he was left kneeling on the steps, cold sweat dripping down his face and just a faint throbbing in his head. He looked up slowly and saw Hermione kneeling next to him with Ron standing close behind her.  
  
"Are you OK?" Hermione asked softly.  
  
"I'm fine," Harry mumbled. "I just . I don't know."  
  
"Yes you do," Hermione urged him. "You saw something didn't you?"  
  
"I . I ." Harry struggled against the overwhelming urge to vomit.  
  
"What did you see?" Hermione demanded.  
  
"Three of them are ." he forced the words out, "are . dead."  
  
"Three of who?" Ron asked. But Harry saw the comprehension dawning on his face as soon as he spoke. "Is it my parents?"  
  
"I . I don't know." Harry searched his brain, trying to picture what he had seen. But it had happened so quickly. "Somehow, I don't think it was," he said honestly.  
  
"How do you know?" Ron demanded angrily. "Did you see who it was?"  
  
"No, but ." Harry could not explain it. "I'm just sure it wasn't them."  
  
"We should tell McGonagall," said Hermione, taking Harry's arm and helping him to his feet. 


	12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

It was not long before the three of them were standing outside McGonagall's office, eager to tell her what had happened. Hermione lifted a hand to knock on the large wooden door but stopped herself. She looked as though she was listening to something. Ron began to speak but Hermione shushed him with her hand.

Harry listened hard. He could hear voices coming from the other side of the door but he could not make out what they were saying.

Hermione lifted her hand again and knocked loudly on the door. The sound echoed throughout the empty corridor and the voices inside the office ceased immediately. The door creaked open and McGonagall's stern face peered out at them.

"Professor, Harry's had another vision. His scar hurt and he saw three people being killed," Hermione blurted in one long outtake of breath.

"I know," said McGonagall grimly.

They all stared at her. Hermione opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again. McGonagall stepped back and opened the door wide to let them in to her office.

As they entered the room they were almost knocked to the ground as Mrs Weasley flung her arms around all three of them at once.

"Mum!" Ron's muffled voice came from Harry's side.

Mrs Weasley pulled away. She then grabbed Ron by the shoulders and kissed him on the forehead, causing his face to flush bright red.

"I … I thought you were dead," Ron stammered.

Mr Weasley appeared from behind his wife and pulled Ron into a tight hug. "It's OK. We're alright."

Harry looked around the room and saw a young witch with vibrant green hair standing quietly near the window. Nymphadora Tonks, a member of the Order and an Auror for the Ministry, smiled sweetly back at him. It was only then that Harry realised what this meant. Three people were still missing: Kingsley Shacklebolt, Sturgis Podmore and Mundungus Fletcher.

"What happened?" asked Ron. "Where have you been?"

"We can't tell you," Mr Weasley replied simply.

Ron looked at his father as if waiting for him to laugh and tell him he was joking. But it appeared that he was serious.

"We're sorry, Ron," said Mrs Weasley soothingly, "but it's best that you don't know. Not yet, anyway."

"You never tell me anything," Ron sulked. "I've been worried sick for two weeks and you don't even have the decency to tell me where you've been!"

Mrs Weasley frowned sympathetically at her son but said nothing.

"Sorry, Professor." Hermione turned to McGonagall. "But you said you knew…"

"Ah," McGonagall cut her off. "I'm afraid we already know about the … unfortunate events which Potter saw."

"But how can you know?" Harry spoke up for the first time. "It only just happened."

The adults exchanged significant looks and Tonks shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

"I'm sorry, Potter, but we cannot discuss this at the moment," McGonagall replied firmly, causing Ron to groan and roll his eyes.

"Where's Ginny?" asked Mrs Weasley. "I'm dying to see my little girl."

They all proceeded back to the Gryffindor common room, where a tearful Ginny was reunited with her parents. Mr and Mrs Weasley and Tonks stayed until late into the evening, chatting about everything except for the events of the last two weeks, and eating sandwiches, which were sent up by the House Elves in the kitchens below them.

It was almost midnight when they finally said goodbye and Harry and Ron climbed the staircase to their dormitory. Harry had almost forgotten that tomorrow was the first day of school, but was soon brought back to reality when he saw his freshly laundered school robes lying neatly on his bed. He picked them up and threw them carelessly onto a nearby chair.

Ron got silently into his bed and pulled the hangings closed around him. Harry was about to follow suit when he stopped himself, crossed the room and turned out the lamp. He felt his way back to his bed and was about to pull his own hangings shut when Ron's voice carried across the dark dormitory:

"I'm getting really fed up with people treating us like we're kids. My own parents disappear for two weeks and won't even tell me where they've been."

"I guess they think it's best if we don't know. Maybe they're trying to protect us," Harry suggested.

"Well, I don't need protecting. You'd think they'd learn. Look at what happened when Dumbledore didn't tell you why you had to learn Occlumency…" Ron trailed off.

Harry sighed. He knew exactly what had happened. Sirius was gone because Harry had given up on his Occlumency training. Well, Snape had refused to continue teaching him, but Harry had never put much effort into it anyway.

"What I mean," Ron continued, "is that hiding things from us usually does more harm than good."

"You sound like Hermione."

Ron went silent for a long time.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't hate you, you know."

"I know."

Harry smiled to himself as he lay down and closed his eyes. Whatever was going on outside Hogwarts, right now Harry felt the happiest he had been in a long time. Mr and Mrs Weasley were alive and safe, and he and Ron were speaking again. This was enough to drive all thoughts of the three deaths he had 'witnessed' today temporarily from his mind and send him into the most peaceful sleep he had had all summer.

*****

The following evening came just as quickly as Harry had feared it would. He soon found himself sitting in the common room with Ron, Hermione and Ginny, all four of them dressed in their school robes, as the sun set rapidly outside the castle. It would not be long before the grounds filled with the bustle of approaching carriages and the excited chatter of students arriving for a fresh year of school.

"I wonder who the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher will be," said Ginny, who was sitting cross-legged on the hearthrug with Crookshanks curled peacefully in her lap.

"Maybe Dumbledore will give the position to Snape," said Ron, who was fiddling unnecessarily with the Prefect badge pinned to the front of his robes.

"I hope not." Defence Against the Dark Arts was Harry's best subject but he doubted whether this would be the case if Snape was teaching it. Besides, Snape had been after the job for years and every year Dumbledore had turned him down.

"Well, I can't see how Dumbledore could've hired anyone," interjected Hermione. "Unless he appointed someone before that day at the Leaky Cauldron. And even then he was so busy I doubt it was a priority for him."

"You don't think the Ministry will force another one of their trolls on us, do you?" said Ron worriedly. "I don't think I can put up with another Umbridge."

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "I guess we'll have to wait and see."

They fell into silence again. Harry sat and watched the sky outside fill with hundreds of twinkling stars, while he picked nervously at a loose thread on the arm of his chair. As the start-of-term feast drew closer he found the knot of anxiety in his chest grow tighter and tighter, until he began to feel suffocated by it.

"I need some air," he blurted as he got quickly to his feet and hurried out of the common room, ignoring the concerned voices of his friends as he disappeared through the portrait hole.

He did not stop walking until he had reached the edge of the lake, which was as far away from the castle as he could get. He dropped himself onto the damp grass and breathed in the cool evening air.

The weight of everything that had happened recently came crashing down on him so suddenly that he felt overwhelmed with fear. Things in the Wizarding World were falling apart before his eyes. When he had first discovered he was a wizard and been shown the world to which he truly belonged, he had felt safe for the first time in his life. But now he did not feel safe at all. Now he did not know who he could trust. And people were being killed. People who were working to protect him.

"Er, Hermione told me to come and find you." Ron sat down sheepishly next to Harry.

"Do you do everything Hermione tells you?"

"If it shuts her up, yes."

Harry could not help grinning.

"Are you worried about what people will say?" asked Ron. "Do you think they all believe you're a murderer?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I just don't want people thinking I'm capable of killing someone."

"Well, even if I have to shout it from the roof, I'll make sure they all know you didn't do it," said Ron reassuringly.

Harry heard the sound of hooves and span around to see about a hundred carriages rattling up to the main entrance. Each carriage was being pulled by two Thestrals – large horse-like creatures with horribly transparent coats and vast, black, leathery wings.

"What in Merlin's name are those things?" Ron stood up, his eyes wide with either shock or repulsion, or both.

"Thestrals," Harry replied, realising that Ron had never seen them before. Thestrals were only visible to people who had witnessed death. Harry had completely forgotten that Ron had seen the muggle being killed a few weeks ago.

"They're horrible!" said Ron, gawping at the creatures, which appeared even worse than usual in the shadowy lights of the castle. "I think I liked them better when I couldn't see them. But how…?" A look of comprehension dawned on Ron's freckled face and he fell silent, sinking back down to sit on the grass. 

Harry tore his eyes away from the hundreds of students who were now filing excitedly into the Entrance Hall, and stared out across the dark lake in front of him. In the distance he could see the glittering torches of the boats which always carried first years across the water to the castle. It seemed like an eternity since he, Harry, had arrived in just the same way on his very first day at Hogwarts. So much had happened in the five years since that day.

"We'd better get going or we'll be late for the feast." Ron got to his feet again.

"Um … you go ahead," Harry mumbled. "I'll catch up in a minute."

"Are you sure?" Ron looked down at him worriedly. "Do you want me to wait for you?"

"No, honestly, go ahead," Harry urged him. "I won't be long."

Ron hesitated, then turned and trudged away towards the castle.

But Harry did not follow him. He stayed where he was, sitting on the cold, damp grass at the edge of the lake, for a long time. He saw the first years arrive further down the bank, some looking excited, others looking so nervous Harry thought they might jump back into the boats and row away as fast as they could. He watched Hagrid lead them up to the castle and saw McGonagall meet them in the doorway and usher them inside, where they would be sorted into either Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw or Slytherin, by the Sorting Hat.

Harry continued to sit in the dark at the edge of the lake as the cold night air began to bite into his skin. He continued thinking about everything that had happened recently until it consumed his mind completely.

He could not understand why everyone was being so secretive. Harry thought back to what had happened in the Department of Mysteries all those weeks ago. He had only gone there because he felt he had to – he had thought that Sirius was in danger. If Dumbledore and the other members of the Order had been more open with Harry about the Prophecy and about Voldemort's control over Harry's mind, then Harry was almost certain he would not have gone. Then Sirius would still be here today.

Harry felt a numbing chill spread through his body. He shivered and turned to look back at the castle. The lights in the Great Hall appeared to have gone out; the feast must be over. Harry got to his feet and began walking slowly towards the castle, hoping that the common room would be empty enough that he could sneak straight up to bed without anyone trying to talk to him.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The castle was very quiet and empty as Harry made his way through the corridors to the Gryffindor Common Room.  He was so deep in his own thoughts that he did not hear a second set of footsteps drawing nearer on the stone floor.  He only realised he was not alone when a hand on his shoulder made him jump and reach for his wand.

"Put that away, Potter."

Harry span around, his wand held out in front of him, only to come face to face with Professor McGonagall.  He stuffed his wand back into his robes, feeling extremely embarrassed.

"I didn't see you at the start-of-term feast," said McGonagall in her usual stern voice.

"I, um, went for a walk," mumbled Harry.

"Well, I'm glad I caught you.  I wanted to ask you something."

Harry looked at her expectantly.

"Now I'll understand if you decline," McGonagall continued, "but, as you know, Miss Johnson has left us and you are the obvious choice to replace her."

Harry was extremely taken aback.  Angelina Johnson had been the captain of the Quidditch team last year.  Harry was amazed that McGonagall thought of him as 'the obvious choice' to take the position.  But he was also amazed at the cautious way in which she was offering him the position.

"What about the life-time ban?" he asked.

"There is no need to worry about that," she replied.  "I have taken care of it."

Harry stared blankly at McGonagall.  He was completely lost for words.

"You do not need to give me an answer today," McGonagall continued.  "Sleep on it and ."

"No, no," Harry interrupted her.  "I'd love to be captain!"

"That is wonderful!" exclaimed McGonagall, a small smile stretching across her tight lips.  "Come to my office tomorrow at six and we can discuss the position officially."

"Thanks," Harry grinned as he turned towards the common room.

"Oh, Potter!" McGonagall called after him.

Harry turned back.

"Congratulations.  You deserve it."  McGonagall turned away quickly and disappeared down a side corridor.

Harry was still very shocked by McGonagall's behaviour towards him as he continued on his way to the common room.  It was not long before Harry found himself standing in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady.  He mumbled the password and the painting swung forward.

The noise from inside told Harry that he was wrong to think everyone would be in bed by now.  He reluctantly crawled inside, hoping he would be able to find Ron and Hermione easily and tell them that he had been made Quidditch captain.

As soon as he entered the room it fell silent.  Every face was looking in his direction.  Harry was just about to turn and leave again when someone started clapping.  Then someone else joined in, and another, until the room was filled with the sound of applause.

Harry looked quizzically around the room until he caught sight of Hermione grinning at him.  She came towards him and gave him a tight hug, whispering in his ear:

"Congratulations!"

"But." Harry began.

"News travels fast in this castle!"  Ron joined them near the entrance and nodded in the direction of the portrait of the Fat Lady. 

"But why haven't you all gone to bed?" asked Harry.

"We asked everyone to wait up for you," replied Hermione.  "Everyone believes you, Harry!  No one believes that you murdered that man.  We're all on your side.  I wanted you to see it for yourself!"

Harry could not help grinning.  He hated Hermione's interfering, but he felt so relieved to know that everyone believed him.

"Who wants food?" Ginny shouted above the noise.

Harry turned to see Ginny dishing out cakes to the other students.

"Where did you get all of those?" Harry asked her.

"Fred and George taught me a few things before they left," she replied briskly, handing Harry a Cauldron Cake.

Harry had one of the best evenings he had had in a long time.  They all stayed up until the early hours of the morning, catching up on news from the summer and eating cakes until they were too tired and bloated to talk anymore.  Slowly, people started drifting up to their dormitories.  But Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny did not get that far.  At some point the four of them must have drifted off, because the next thing Harry knew, it was morning and Hermione was shaking him awake.

He was still sitting in the armchair by the fire.  Ginny was curled up on the chair next to him and Ron was lying across a sofa, fast asleep with his mouth wide open.

"Wake up."  Hermione shook him again.

"Alright, I'm awake," he mumbled.  Harry sat up and rubbed his eyes as Hermione moved across to Ginny and started shaking her.

It was a beautifully sunny morning.  Harry knew he must have only got a couple of hours sleep, but he now felt more refreshed than he had done in a long time.

In the Great Hall at breakfast, everyone at the Gryffindor table looked a little worse for wear.  Harry helped himself to plenty of scrambled eggs, toast and bacon, as Hermione handed timetables out to all the students, her Prefect badge pinned proudly to her chest.  She dropped a large piece of parchment in front of Harry.  He glanced over it as he continued eating his breakfast.

"Look at this," Ron nudged him in the side and pointed at his own timetable.  "Look how many free periods we have!"

Harry leaned over and looked at all the empty spaces on Ron's timetable, then looked back at his own, which appeared to have considerably less free space.

"They're not _free_ periods" interjected Hermione.  "They're _study _periods."  

She sat down on Harry's other side and started pouring over her own timetable.  Harry peaked across and noticed that Hermione had quite a few study periods, too.  He looked back over his own timetable and realised he had twice as many Potions lessons than any other subject.

"There must be a mistake," he said to Hermione.

"What's the matter?" Hermione followed Harry's gaze down to his timetable.

"They must have scheduled me for two Potions classes by mistake," he said decidedly and started rolling up the parchment.

"I think you had better check with McGonagall," said Hermione bossily.

"What's that?" Ron joined in, his mouth full of egg.

"Harry's been scheduled for double Potions," Hermione replied.

"Double Potions?!"  Ron's mouth was open so wide that some of the egg fell out onto the table.  "That means double Snape!  Why did you sign up for that, Harry?"

"I didn't," Harry said, while impatiently stuffing the piece of parchment into his bag.  "It's a mistake."

He swung his bag onto his bag and started making his way out of the Great Hall.  Ron and Hermione quickly followed suit and all three of them headed towards the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom in silence.  When they reached the room the door was locked, so they stood outside and waited.

"So, what do you think this new professor will be like?" Ron asked suddenly.

"What new professor?"  Harry had forgotten that there must be a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.

"His name's Professor Whiting.  He seems really nice.  He was at the feast last night," replied Hermione.

Harry had forgotten about the feast as well.  "Was ." he began.

"No, Dumbledore wasn't there," Hermione answered his unasked question.  "McGonagall did the notices, but she just said that Dumbledore was out-of-town, whatever that means.  She said he would be back soon, though."

"Well, well, well.  If it isn't the wonderful Harry Potter," came the drawling voice of Draco Malfoy.  "Murdered any more Muggles lately, Potter?  I hope you enjoyed your time in Azkaban because you're going to be spending a lot more time there in the future.  That's if you don't get yourself killed first."

Ron moved towards his wand but Harry grasped his arm tightly to stop him.  At the same moment, the door to the classroom opened and a tall man with short, scruffy blonde hair appeared in the doorway.

"Welcome to my Defence Against the Dark Arts class," announced Professor Whiting.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Professor Whiting moved aside and the students began filing into the classroom.  Harry pulled Ron away from Malfoy and they began to make their way to some empty seats at the back of the room.  But Hermione soon caught up with them and steered them towards a desk much nearer the front.  Ron groaned at her but she simply shushed him and settled herself into a seat.  Harry and Ron dropped their bags onto the desk beside her and sat down too.

"How come Malfoy's in this class?  We've never had Defence Against the Dark Arts with the Slytherin's before," Harry whispered to Hermione as he looked around the room.

"There are less people taking this class, that's why," replied Hermione impatiently.  "NEWTs are very difficult and we only have time to take 5 or 6 subjects.  So lots of people will have dropped this class.  All the classes this year will probably have students from all four houses in them."  She did not remove her eyes from her textbook the whole time she spoke to him.

Ron jabbed Harry in the side.  "Looks like Malfoy's sidekicks decided to drop this class."  He pointed to Malfoy, who was sitting at the very back of the room with a couple of Slytherin girls.  Crabbe and Goyle, Malfoy's cronies who never usually left his side, were nowhere to be seen.

Hermione suddenly seemed interested in this observation from Ron.  She scanned the classroom herself for Crabbe and Goyle.  "I wonder why they would've dropped the class," she muttered to herself.

"Quiet please!" Whiting raised his voice above the chatter of the students.  

Hermione quickly straightened herself and looked attentively at Whiting, who was now standing at the front of the class.

"As I said before, I'd like to welcome you all to my Defence Against the Dark Arts class."  Whiting began pacing up and down the centre aisle between the desks.  "I am Professor Whiting and I hope to be taking you through the next two years to your NEWT exams."

"Not likely," Ron whispered.

"Shh," Hermione hissed.

"Is there something you would like to share with the class, Miss…?"  Whiting looked expectantly at Hermione.

"Um, Granger," Hermione stammered, "and, um, no, I was just …"

"_I_ was just saying that none of our Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers have lasted more than one year," Ron interjected, to Hermione's great relief.  "So, it's unlikely that you will be here right through to our NEWT exams."

Harry looked at Ron in disbelief.  He had never heard Ron speak so boldly in front of a teacher like this before.  Ron had definitely changed a great deal since the events of the summer holidays.

Whiting stopped pacing the aisle and moved in front of Ron and Harry's desk.  "Is that right, Mr…?"

"Weasley," Ron replied confidently.

"Well, Mr Weasley, maybe it's time to change that little habit."  He perched himself casually on the edge of the desk.  Now that Harry could see him close up, he realised that Whiting was much younger than most of their teachers.  He could only have been in his mid-thirties.

"I'm going to be totally honest with you all," Whiting continued.  "I have never taught this subject before.  In fact, I haven't even been living in the Wizarding world for the last fifteen years."  There was a flutter of surprise at this statement and Hermione had a look of complete horror on her face.  "But I _have_ been teaching the last few years.  I'm actually muggle-born and decided to return to the muggle world to attend university and become a qualified university professor.  I've spent the last few years teaching Mythology to muggles."

"Sorry, Professor, but how can you teach us Defence Against the Dark Arts if you've been away from the Wizarding World for so long?"  Hermione sounded extremely worried.

"Don't apologise, Miss Granger," Whiting replied earnestly, "you have every right to be concerned.  But I will put your mind at ease.  Before I left, I became a fully-qualified Auror for the Ministry of Magic.  During my time away I have continued working for the Ministry.  I cannot tell you exactly what my job entailed but rest assured that it has given me enough experience to guide you through your Defence Against the Dark Arts NEWT."

"What a load of rubbish," a sneering voice proclaimed from the back of the room.

"Please have the decency to introduce yourself before insulting me, Mr…?"

"Malfoy," came the simple reply.

"Ah, yes, of course."  Whiting stood up again and walked over to Malfoy's desk.  "Well, Mr Malfoy, if you have any comments about my teaching abilities, I suggest you take them to the Headmaster as soon as he returns.  Until then, I would appreciate it if you would keep them to yourself."

"My father told me about you," Malfoy continued confidently.  "You were a pathetic Auror.  You ran away when the Dark Lord was at his strongest.  There was no 'top secret' job for the Ministry.  You were just too much of a coward to fight."  Malfoy looked very pleased with himself.

Whiting turned away from Malfoy and headed back towards the front of the class.  "Well, I'll leave you all to believe what you will," he said dryly.  "I'm not here to win your friendships.  I have a job to do and I intend to do it to the best of my ability.  Now, if you will all take out your books and turn to chapter two.  I would like you to read the chapter and answer the questions printed at the end."  The whole class groaned audibly.  "I know.  It's all very dull.  But I need to know what standards you are all at.  I promise there will be more practical work in future."

The rest of the double lesson was spent in relative silence.  Harry struggled to concentrate on the text he was supposed to be reading.  He spent most of the lesson staring at Whiting and trying to figure out if he had been telling the truth or not.  When he came to answer the questions at the end of the chapter, he only had time to scribble out some very pathetic answers which he knew were probably completely wrong, before the bell sounded for the end of the lesson.

"Please bring your answers to me before you leave," Whiting called out above the noise.

"I'll take them."  Harry gathered up the pieces of parchment that he, Ron and Hermione had written their answers on.  "Go ahead, I'll catch you up."

Harry hung back at his desk and pretended to be looking for something in his bag.  When the rest of the students had handed in their work and the last one had left the room, Harry strolled up to Whiting's desk and handed him the three pieces of parchment.  He was about to ask Whiting if what Malfoy said was true, when he changed his mind and turned silently to leave the room.  When he was almost at the door, Whiting called after him:

"Mr Potter, wait a moment will you."

Harry stopped and turned to look back at Whiting.  "How do you know my name?  I never told you …"

"It's, er, on your parchment here," Whiting replied nervously.  "And well, I, um, guessed who you were as soon as I saw your, er …"

"My scar," Harry finished for him.  Whiting had been so confident before, especially with Malfoy.  Harry was amazed at how nervous he was right now.

"Yes, that's right."  Whiting seemed to be avoiding Harry's gaze as he spoke to him.

They were both silent.

"What did you want, Potter?"

"Nothing, Sir, _you _asked _me_ to stay back."  Harry looked awkwardly at Whiting who continued to look everywhere but directly at him.

"Oh, yes, I did," Whiting laughed.  "But only because I thought _you_ had something to ask _me_."

How did he know?  Harry began to feel very uncomfortable.  For a moment, he thought about turning around and leaving the room as quickly as possible.  But there _was_ something he was desperate to know the answer to.

"I just wanted to know if what Malfoy said was true," Harry blurted out suddenly.

Whiting laughed again.  "What difference does it make?"

"It makes a lot of difference to me," Harry replied earnestly.  "I want to know that I can trust you."

"I guess that is a hard thing to decide when you first meet a person."  Whiting kicked back in his chair and put his feet up on his desk.  He looked much more at ease than he had been before, but he was still not looking directly at Harry when he spoke to him.  "There's nothing I can do to make you trust me, Potter.  You just have to listen to what your own heart tells you."

Harry laughed this time, but it was a bitter laugh. "That's not done me much good in the past."

"I'm sorry, Potter, but that's the best I can do for you."  Whiting leaned forward, picked up the stack of parchments and began rifling through them.

Harry turned and walked out of the classroom without another word.  He went straight to the Gryffindor common room were Ron and Hermione were sitting in their favourite chairs near the fireplace.

"I can get used to this," said Ron, pulling out the Wizards Chess board and setting up his pieces.

"These are meant to be 'study periods'," said Hermione bossily, pulling out her textbook from the previous lesson.

"What is there to study?" Ron laughed.  "We've only had one lesson and he didn't set any homework."

Hermione simply shook her head before burying it behind the book.

"That Whiting guy seems OK," Ron turned to Harry.

"I don't like him," Harry replied coldly.

"Why not?  He seems really laid back.  And the way he dealt with Malfoy was genius.  Malfoy won't bother doing that again if he's not going to get a reaction."  Ron began setting up Harry's chess pieces for him.

"I asked him if what Malfoy said was true and he didn't answer me," Harry told him.

"What?"  Hermione looked up from her book.  "Why did you do that?"

"Because I wanted to know if it was true," Harry replied.  "I wanted to make sure he didn't run away when Voldemort was in power last time."

"Of course he didn't."  Hermione put her book down and looked directly at Harry.  "Malfoy was just stirring.  Since when have you believed anything that Malfoy says?"

Harry did not answer.  He looked away from Hermione and started looking over his timetable again, counting all the Potions lessons that were listed.

"I'm going to see McGonagall," he said finally.

"What about chess?" asked Ron.  "I can't play on my own!"

But Harry did not answer.  He had already disappeared through the portrait hole.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

"Come in," McGonagall's voice called from the other side of her office door.

Harry edged quietly into the room and closed the door behind him.  McGonagall was sitting at her desk with several large stacks of files piled up in front of her.  She pushed some of the dusty files aside and motioned for Harry to sit down, which he did silently.

"What can I do for you today, Potter?  You haven't fallen out with another teacher have you?"

Harry saw that McGonagall was smiling.  He remembered the times he had been sent to see her last year by Professor Umbridge.

"No," Harry let out a small, strained laugh.  "I just wanted to ask you about my timetable."

"Ah, I see," replied McGonagall, her face now as stern and serious as usual.  "You're wondering why you have so many Potions classes."

"Yeah, I am," Harry replied.  He had been hoping the extra classes where a mistake but it was beginning to look as though he was wrong.

"I am afraid that_ I_ am partly to blame for that.  You remember our discussion last term about your career as an Auror?"

"Yes."  Harry remembered the meeting vividly.  McGonagall had promised Harry that she would do everything in her power to help him become an Auror.  But Harry had assumed at the time that she was only saying it to infuriate Umbridge, who was determined to see Harry fail at everything.

"Well, as I told you then, Professor Snape refuses to accept students into his NEWT class unless they achieve Outstanding in their OWL.  Unfortunately, you only achieved Exceeds Expectations."

"So why have I now got twice as many Potions lessons," Harry interrupted.

"You were very lucky that the Headmaster spoke to Professor Snape and managed to convince him to accept you.  But he would only do so on one condition – that you also re-take your Potions OWL."

Harry's face dropped immediately.

"If you do not achieve Outstanding in your second OWL exam, you will not be allowed to continue with the NEWT next year.  Then you can say goodbye to your ambition of becoming an Auror."

"So I have to attend OWL classes and NEWT classes this year?"  Harry could not understand how Snape would agree to this.

"You should consider yourself extremely lucky," replied McGonagall.  "These kinds of exceptions are not usually made.  Be sure that you appreciate what Professor Snape is willing to do for your career."

Harry could not help laughing.  Snape would normally revel in the idea of Harry missing out on something he really wanted.  He could not see Snape being easily convinced into spending twice as much time with him this year.

McGonagall began shuffling through some of the files and papers on the desk in front of her.  Harry took this to indicate that the conversation was over.  He was about to leave the office when McGonagall said:

"This is for you, Potter.  I forgot to give it to you yesterday."  She reached into a drawer and produced from inside it a small pin, similar to Ron and Hermione's prefect badges, which she held out to him.

Harry reached across the desk and took it from her.  It was indeed a small, red badge with the words 'Quidditch Captain' written on it in gold.

"I will expect you to begin organising Quidditch practices by next week.  You will also need to hold try-outs for the positions which have become available this year.  Let me know when you need the Quidditch Pitch booked and I will see to it."  She turned back to the papers on her desk.

"Thanks, Professor," Harry grinned at the badge in his hands.

"Good day, Mr Potter."

"Oh yeah, see you later."  He slipped quickly out of McGonagall's office and headed straight back to the common room to show Ron and Hermione his badge.  He was so preoccupied with thoughts of Quidditch practices and try-outs that he almost walked straight passed Ginny in the corridor without noticing.

She was standing against the wall, just a few feet from the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.

"Ginny?  Why aren't you in class?"

She looked extremely embarrassed when she saw Harry.  "Professor Whiting sent me out," she sighed.

"Why?"  Harry could not imagine Ginny misbehaving enough to be sent out of a class.  She had become a lot more confident over the last year or so, but she was not a trouble-maker.

Ginny sighed again.  "I had a stupid argument with him."

"It must've been serious if he sent you out of the class."

"Well, it was about you, actually."  Ginny looked away.

Harry was slightly taken-aback.  "Me?"

"It was stupid," repeated Ginny.  "Whiting was asking us about what we had been taught last year.  I told him that Umbridge hadn't taught us anything useful, but that you had taught me a lot."

Harry blushed.  "So, why did that make him angry?"

"He said that you were too young to be able to teach anyone anything.  I told him that I'd used some of the spells you'd taught me in real-life and he just laughed at me.  He didn't even believe me when I told him about the Death Eaters we fought."

"Whiting's an idiot," Harry growled.  He had been unsure about Whiting before, but now he was convinced.  "I'll go in there and tell him right now."

Ginny grabbed hold of Harry's arm to stop him.  "No, don't.  It's not worth it."  As she pulled him back, the badge in his hand fell to the ground with a _clink_ which resounded along the empty corridor.  

"What's that?" Ginny asked.  She bent down and picked it up.  Harry noticed a wide grin spread across her face as she handed the badge back to him.  "You should put that on before you lose it."

Harry felt his cheeks burning again as he pinned the shiny badge to his robes.  Just then the bell for lunch rang loudly throughout the castle.  The door to the Defence Against the Dark Arts class swung open and a hoard of fifth year students came bustling out into the corridor.  Some of them gave Harry strange looks, but he was used to this.

"I'd better go back in and get my bag," said Ginny, turning towards the classroom.

"Do you want me to come in with you?" asked Harry, but he immediately wished he had not said it.  It sounded as though he thought Ginny needed protection or something.

Ginny laughed.  "No thanks, I'll be alright."  She gave him another little grin and disappeared through the doorway.

Harry hung back and waited until all the students had left the classroom.  Then he peered around the doorframe.  Ginny was at the back of the room, in front of Whiting's desk.  He was sitting on the edge of his desk talking to her so quietly that Harry could not hear what he was saying.  Ginny appeared to be listening to him silently.  Whiting laughed suddenly and Harry was shocked to feel a sharp pain sear across his scar.  He clamped one hand to his forehead and the other across his mouth to stop himself from yelling.  He turned away from the doorway and flattened himself against the wall.  The pain had gone as quickly as it had come but Harry's mind was reeling.  Had it been Whiting's laugh that had triggered the pain?  Or was it just a coincidence?

He heard Ginny's footsteps approaching on the stone floor of the classroom.  He did not want her to think he was spying on her.  He turned quickly and headed straight for the Great Hall to find Ron and Hermione.

*****

"I think you're overreacting, Harry," said Hermione as she began cutting neatly through her sausages.

"It was probably just a coincidence," Ron agreed, through a mouthful of fish.  "Maybe You-Know-Who was angry or happy or something at that moment.  That's what usually causes it, isn't it?"

"Most of the time," Harry mumbled in reply.  "But I don't trust Whiting.  He's … he's …"

"He's what?" asked Hermione, raising her eyebrows.  "You don't know, do you?  You're making assumptions based on very little evidence."

Harry could not think of a good come-back, so he pulled a face childishly and ate his lunch in silence.

"Harry!  You've got your badge!" Hermione gushed suddenly.

Harry had almost forgotten about it.  He could not help grinning again as Hermione took a closer look at it.

"So, when's Quidditch Practice?" Ron smirked.

"I hope you're going to treat Harry with respect when he's captaining you," Hermione said bossily to Ron.

"I always treat Harry with respect," Ron winked at Harry across the table.

"Have you thought about try-outs for the available positions?" Hermione began.  "I think it would be a good idea to get them out of the way as soon as possible.  Then you can start practising with a full team."

"Why don't you do the job for him?" Ron mumbled under his breath.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Ron but continued as if she had not heard him.  "I also think you should consider timetabling the practices now so you can be sure that you'll fit it all in.  I'll help you if you like."

"Er, thanks," said Harry awkwardly.  "I haven't really thought about it yet.  I only got the position yesterday."

"It's never too early to start planning ahead," said Hermione matter-of-factly.

"You should have that sewn on a pillow or something," Ron muttered, but this time only Harry heard him.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The following day began at a very slow pace.  The long morning was spent in Transfiguration and Charms.  Professor McGonagall gave them an extremely drawn out lecture on the importance of their NEWTs before setting them an assignment on 'Tactical Transfiguration'.  Professor Flitwick, a tiny wizard who taught his Charms lessons from the top of a stack of books, made them demonstrate almost every charm they had learned over the last few years.  Then he set them a three foot essay on the advantages of these charms in defence.  Harry had the distinct impression that both teachers were not only concerned with the students' exam grades.  At lunch, Hermione seemed to be on the same page:

"Have you noticed anything different with the teachers this year?" she asked casually as they sat at the Gryffindor table together.

"Nope.  They're just as annoying as always," Ron groaned, while stabbing angrily at his food.  "Can't they give us a chance to settle in before setting us mountains of homework?"

"I know what you mean," said Harry, ignoring Ron completely.  "'Tactical Transfiguration'?  'The uses of charms in defence'?  It can't be a coincidence."

"Well, I know there is a lot of theory to study for the NEWT exams, but it seems strange that McGonagall and Flitwick would both set us work linked with Defence Against the Dark Arts."  Hermione frowned.  "I guess they must be trying to prepare us …"

"Prepare us for what?"  Ron looked up from his plate.

Hermione pulled a face, and without bothering to reply she pulled her timetable out of her bag and looked over it.  "Well, we have a study period after Potions, so we can make a start on the homework."

"Yeah, and by then Snape will have given us even more to do," Ron groaned and went back to attacking his jacket potato with his fork.

Harry stared silently at his own meal.  He knew that he did not have a free period after Potions.  His timetable actually had him down for a double Potions lesson.  That meant that he would have to spend a whole second period with Snape on his own, or more accurately, with a bunch of gawping fifth years.

"Harry?  Harry!"

Harry seemed to have tuned out and did not hear Hermione until Ron elbowed him in the side.

"What?" he said, slightly louder than he had intended.

"I said, have you thought about organising a Quidditch team practice yet?" Hermione repeated.

"Um, no," Harry replied uncertainly.  It had not even crossed his mind today.

"Well, I think you should …"

"Leave him alone, Hermione!" Ron protested.  "Why do you have to keep on about every little thing?"

Hermione looked extremely hurt.  She gathered her books into her bag, mumbled something about the library and left the table.

After a few minutes Harry began to feel a bit guilty about Ron's outburst.  "Maybe we should go to the library too," he suggested.

Ron seemed relieved.  He had obviously been thinking the same thing and did not want to be the one to suggest it.  They both grabbed their bags and headed out of the Great Hall towards the library.  But they did not get any further than the Entrance Hall before they crossed paths with Draco Malfoy.

"Where's your girlfriend?" he remarked, the usual irritating smirk curled across his lips as he spoke.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry asked irritably.  He had had enough of Malfoy's mind games.

"I want you to keep out of my way, Potter," Malfoy growled, "or I won't be responsible for my own actions."

In the corner of his eye, Harry saw that Ron had a hand inside his right pocket, keeping his wand ready.  Malfoy's hand was also hovering close to his pocket but he did not make a move.  The last thing Harry needed was a duel with Malfoy.

"Fine, if that's all you want, we'll be on our way."  Harry grabbed Ron's arm and began to steer him away from Malfoy.  But as they turned, Crabbe and Goyle seemed to appear from nowhere, blocking their path.

"I don't think you understood me, Potter," Malfoy spat Harry's name.  "I want you out of my way.  Completely out of my way.  You don't belong here and I'm going to make sure you leave Hogwarts for good.  Whatever it takes."

He stared Harry directly in the eye for a long time, neither of them speaking, then he motioned to Crabbe and Goyle and the three of them disappeared into the Great Hall without another word.

Harry continued to stare at the spot where Malfoy had just been standing.  He felt hot with anger.  He had really wanted to just hit Malfoy right between the eyes.  But he knew that was just what Malfoy wanted.  He was trying to provoke him into doing something stupid and run the risk of being expelled.

"Come on, Harry," Ron urged him.  "We should find Hermione before lunch ends."

They walked the rest of the way in silence.  Harry was still seething.  He knew Malfoy was only trying to wind him up but he was succeeding.  When they reached the library, Hermione was nowhere to be seen.  They checked down all of the aisles, but she was not there.

"Maybe she's already left for Potions?" Ron suggested.

"We would've passed her in the corridor," Harry replied.

"Well, let's just head down there anyway," said Ron.  "That's where she'll go next."

They left the library and walked back down to the Entrance Hall, this time taking the staircase which led down the dungeons.   They reached the classroom before the bell had rung to signify the end of lunch.  Harry slid down and sat on the floor next to the classroom door.  Ron joined him, wincing as he touched the cold stones.

"I hope Hermione's not upset at me," Ron sighed.  "I hate having to apologise to her."

"Then don't upset her," Harry replied with a short laugh.

"It's not that easy.  She's so irritating!"

Harry laughed again and shook his head.

"What?"  Ron frowned at him.

Harry was thinking about what Ginny had said.  He was only just starting to see it himself, but he could not understand how he did not notice it before.

"What?" Ron demanded again.

"You're an idiot," Harry observed, still chuckling to himself.  The anger which Malfoy had stirred in him was ebbing away rapidly.

Ron continued to look puzzled as the bell for the end of lunch echoed along the corridor and more students began to gather around them.  There was still no sign of Hermione.

Soon the bell rang for the start of their lesson and Harry picked himself up off the floor.  He and Ron dropped themselves into two seats near the back of the class, and Harry placed his bag on the seat next to him, saving it for Hermione.

But there was still no sign of her.  Harry scanned the classroom in case he had missed her, but she was nowhere to be seen.  He caught sight of Malfoy who was at the front of the class looking back at him.  Harry pretended not to have seen him and busied himself with his cauldron.  Snape entered the room and closed the door behind him.

"This class is only for students who are serious about Potion-making and who wish to study hard for the next two years," he spoke in a long hissing voice which made Harry's skin crawl.  "If you do not achieve the standard I am expecting, I will not hesitate to remove you from my class."  He seemed to look directly at Harry at this point, but Harry continued to stare at the bottom of his cauldron.

The door opened with a creak that resounded throughout the classroom.  Harry looked round and saw Hermione creep sheepishly into the room.  Her face was red and puffy and she looked as though she had been crying.  Harry felt extremely guilty again.

"And what makes you think you can turn up to my class whenever you feel like it, Miss Granger?" Snape hissed.

"I … I'm sorry," Hermione stammered.

"Be quiet and sit down," Snape spat.  "Your tardiness has cost your house 5 points.  A good start to the year for Gryffindor," he smirked.

Harry moved his bag, but Hermione walked straight passed him and sat down in an empty seat next to Parvati Patil.

The lesson was very similar to the morning's lessons; Snape lectured them about the NEWTs then made them go over some potions they had learned in previous years.  Thankfully, he did not set them any homework, but he did, however, inform them all that they would be conducting an experiment which would require them to visit the classroom outside of lessons.  But he did not reveal what this would be.

"That's more of my free periods down the drain," Ron groaned as he packed his things away at the end of the lesson.  "I don't want to do any stupid experiments in my spare time."  He looked at Harry who was still sitting at the desk with his things out in front of him.  "Aren't you coming?"

Harry shook his head solemnly.  "I've got another Potions lesson now."

Ron gave him a sympathetic look and left the room.  Hermione walked passed without looking at him.  Malfoy was one of the last to leave and glared at Harry as he passed.  Harry continued to ignore him.

When the room was empty, Snape swooped down on Harry unexpectedly.  "I want you to know that I am not happy with this situation."  Snape's face was uncomfortably close to Harry's, with only the desk separating them.  His skin was extremely pasty and his greasy hair clung to the sides of his face. Harry looked away from him.  "I do _not_ accept under-achievers into my Potions class, and I do _not_ condone re-taking OWL exams," Snape spat.  "But, I have a duty to the Headmaster which is far more important to me than the little drama that is Harry Potter's life."

Harry did not respond, but continued to stare blankly at anything but Snape.  He knew that if he spoke, he would say something he would regret.

"So, we must set some ground rules," Snape moved away and began tidying up the mess that the previous class has left behind.  "You _will_ achieve Outstanding on you OWL this year.  You _will not_ disrupt any of my lessons.  One single outburst from you and you will not be allowed back into my classroom ever again.  Understood?"

"Yeah," Harry mumbled.

"I said, understood?" Snape repeated.

"Yes, sir," Harry replied angrily.

The bell rang and students began filing into the classroom again.  Harry tried to ignore the inquisitive looks they were giving him as they shuffled past.  Luna Lovegood glided past him and sat down near the front of the class.  She appeared not to have noticed him at all.

"Can I sit here?" a familiar voice asked him.  Harry turned to see Ginny standing over the empty chair on his right.  He grinned at her and she sat down.  He had completely forgotten that she would be in this class.

"It's OK," Ginny continued, "Hermione told me that you'd be here.  She asked me to look after you."

"That's nice of her," Harry laughed.

"I think you have an admirer," Ginny grinned.  Harry frowned at her and she indicated towards the front of the class where Luna was sitting, looking back at them, the usual dreamy look on her face.

Harry was unsure as to whether she was actually looking at him or not.  Her eyes seemed unfocused.  He smiled at her and she turned abruptly to face the front of the class again.  He laughed to himself and turned back to Ginny.  She was doodling on a corner of her parchment.  Harry took a closer look and saw that she was drawing a picture of Snape with his foot stuck in a bubbling cauldron.  He appeared to be jumping up and down trying to shake it off.

Harry laughed again.  Ginny tore the corner off the piece of parchment and pushed it into the pocket of Harry's robes.

"For when you feel down," she grinned.

Harry smiled at her as Snape growled, "Silence," at the class.

Maybe this year will not be so bad after all, he thought to himself.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Harry's attitude began to change dramatically over the next few days. The extra Potions lessons were still extremely annoying, but he found he could face them. It was actually very strange to have so few subjects to concentrate on. They had all dropped several of their subjects in order to concentrate on the important ones that they needed NEWTs in. Harry and Ron had once again picked all the same subjects, just as they had done when it came to choosing extra subjects back in their third year. They had both decided to drop Divination (which they had never been any good at anyway), Herbology, History of Magic, and Astronomy. Harry had kept all of his other subjects: Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Charms and Potions, all of which he would need in order to have any chance of becoming an Auror. He had also decided to continue with his Care of Magical Creatures classes. He needed a fifth subject and he could not imagine abandoning Hagrid's class.

Harry was not surprised when he discovered that Hermione was taking six NEWT classes. He had half expected her to try and take even more subjects as she had done for the OWLs. She was taking all the same classes as Harry and Ron but was also taking History of Magic.

"How can you take that horrible subject voluntarily?" Ron had asked in disgust when she told them.

"Well, I admit Professor Binns isn't the most inspiring teacher," Hermione had said casually, "but I find the subject fascinating. And, well, I'll need it if I want to fight for the rights of House Elves and other neglected magical creatures."

"You're not seriously going to carry on with that spew nonsense are you?" Ron asked with a short laugh.

"Of course," she replied defiantly. "I want a career which I can be proud of. I think S.P.E.W. is very important and I'd like to take it further when we leave school. Besides, McGonagall was very encouraging during my Careers Advice. She suggested that I continue with all the basic subjects, plus achieve Outstanding in Care of Magical Creatures and History of Magic. They'll both give me a strong foundation with which to base my career."

Ron had groaned at this point and Hermione had not mentioned S.P.E.W. again since, which stood for the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare and was a cause Hermione had founded in their fourth year.

As the weekend drew nearer, Harry decided he had better start thinking about the Quidditch practices. He decided to organise a practice with the remaining team members for Monday night. They could discuss the vacant positions and arrange another evening to hold trials. He told Ron about his plan and Ron agreed to spread the word to the other team members about the practice.

Hermione had not mentioned Quidditch since Ron had told her off that lunchtime. In fact, she had not spoken to the two of them much at all. She was not ignoring them, but simply not talking to them unless she had to. She still sat with them at meal times and when they were in the common room. But she always buried her face in a book and only spoke if she was spoken to first. Harry felt horrible and really want to talk to her. But when he mentioned this to Ron, he just brushed it off.

"She's alright," he mumbled when Harry mentioned it to him as they were lying in bed that Friday night. "She's just angry that we won't let her take charge of everything. She'll get over it."

"Maybe," Harry replied and rolled over to face the moonlit window. Ron had insulted Hermione loads of times in the past and she usually just pulled a face or simply ignored him. She had not taken it this badly since Ron had made fun of her in their first year, just before they had all become friends. A cloud moved across the moon and the room fell into complete darkness. Harry closed his eyes. He decided he would talk to Hermione tomorrow, without Ron around. He began to think of ways he could get her alone, but before he came up with anything at all viable, he fell asleep.

* * *

Harry was standing in a dark room lit only by a few candles which were glowing in one corner. There was a window not far from him, but it was so filthy that even if it was daytime, no light would have shone through it. He walked across to the candle-lit side of the room. He blinked at the brightness of them and blew out a couple in order to reduce the glare. His breath felt icy cold in his mouth. A door opened and he turned to face it.

"I-It's working, M-Master," Wormtail stammered as he crawled in on his hands and knees, and began kissing the hem of Harry's robes.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Why have you returned?" he asked in a cold, high voice which almost made him jump when he spoke. He proceeded to kick Wormtail away from him, and then laughed as he stumbled and fell against the wall.

"I-I wanted to w-warn you, M-Master," he continued to stammer, his eyes darting wildly in their sockets as he spoke. "Dumbledore kn-knows."

"What?" Harry demanded, again in that high pitched voice. But this time he was not so surprised when it left his mouth.

"He has s-still not returned to H-Hogwarts," Wormtail went on, flinching at almost every word. "He kn-knows."

"Curse that damned old fool," Harry banged his fist on the shelf which held the candles, a long white-fingered fist. One of the candles rattled and tipped off the shelf. It hit the floor and extinguished itself, causing the room to fall darker still.

"What shall we do, Master?" Wormtail grovelled closer to Harry along the stone floor.

"We continue with the plan," said Harry decisively. "I will deal with Dumbledore." Harry was instantly surprised at the amount of disgust he felt towards the man who had always been so good to him.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small timepiece. He glanced at the many golden hands, but before he had made any sense of it, he caught sight of his reflection in the glass. Instantly his scar began to burn red hot on his forehead. He dropped the pocket watch, which fell to his side, and clasped his hands to his forehead.

"M-Master?" Wormtail lifted his head, looking concerned.

"Potter!"

"What about him, Master?" Wormtail moved forward cautiously.

"He's here," Voldemort replied angrily, his fierce red eyes glowing in anger. He swooped his long arm across the shelf, sending the remaining candles plummeting to the floor. The room plunged into complete darkness.

* * *

Harry sat bolt upright in his bed. He was panting as if he had just run a great distance. His skin was cold and clammy and his sheets were soaked with sweat. He must have fallen asleep with his glasses on because they were now halfway down his nose. He felt sick and had to sit completely still for a few minutes in order to stop the nausea which threatened to engulf him. The room was still very dark. He reached across and clasped his hand around the glass of water on his bedside cabinet. His hand shook violently as he tried to lift the glass towards his dry lips. Then he lost his grip completely and the glass fell to the floor and smashed.

"Whazzat?" Harry could hear Ron's voice from across the room.

"Where's the light?" Neville Longbottom was groping around in the darkness trying to light the lantern by his bed.

"What's going on?" Seamus Finnigan asked sleepily.

"Dunno," Dean Thomas mumbled.

Then the light came on and shone across them all, casting eerie shadows on the floor. Harry laid his head back against his damp pillows without saying a word. He was still secretly scared of what voice would come out of him if he did speak.

"Harry?" Ron asked, moving down to the end of his own bed and looking worriedly at Harry.

"Do you want me to get someone?" Neville asked, also looking at Harry with concern.

Harry tried to shake his head, but stopped as the movement sent a horrible wave of cold sickness through his body.

"I'm going to get McGonagall," Neville said decisively.

"No," Harry croaked, and was secretly relieved when his own voice came out. "I-I'm fine."

"Did you have another dream?" Ron asked with a mixture of concern and terror.

Harry nodded slowly and winced as the nausea threatened to engulf him again.

"What happened?"

Harry screwed up his face. "Not now," he groaned. His scar was still burning painfully on his forehead and he was trembling slightly from the shock.

"I think you should see Madam Pomfrey," Ron suggested.

Harry growled under his breath. The pain on his forehead was throbbing more intensely now and he could feel cold sweat pouring down his face. He heard Ron scramble off his bed and move beside him.

"…Dumbledore," was all Harry managed to say.

"I-I don't think I can get Dumbledore," Ron said cautiously.

"TRY!" Harry shouted, his face still screwed up against the searing pain which was growing worse by the second.

Ron muttered something and Harry heard the other boys moving frantically around the room. Then the door opened and closed, leaving Ron and Harry alone in the dormitory.

"He's angry," Harry groaned through the pain.

"Who?" Ron asked, moving closer to Harry's face so that he could hear him better.

"Voldemort," Harry spat, causing Ron to flinch.

"W-why is he a-angry?" Ron asked, now sounding extremely frightened.

"He knows I was there," Harry replied through gritted teeth. A tap on the door interrupted them. "Go away," Harry hissed, but far too quietly for the person to hear.

"Come in," Ron shouted across the room.

The door opened slowly and Harry groaned at the thought of McGonagall or Madam Pomfrey coming in and fussing over him. But he was surprised and relieved when the person actually spoke.

"Harry!" It was Hermione who shrieked out his name and flung herself down beside his bed with Ron. "Are you alright?"

Harry shook his head. The pain was subsiding again now but he was overcome with nausea again instead. He had to swallow hard to stop himself from being sick in front of Hermione.

"What is it?" Hermione asked.

"Dumbledore," Harry repeated, "I need to see Dumbledore."

"Maybe we should see McGonagall," Hermione suggested.

Harry groaned again. "No," he said, feeling angry himself now, "Dumbledore."

He heard Ron and Hermione whispering frantically to each other, which made Harry feel even more annoyed. Then the door opened again. Harry turned to look at it and rolled his eyes when he saw both McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey hurrying inside. He also caught a glimpse of several students hovering in the hallway outside the door.

Although Harry protested constantly, he ended up being taken down to the hospital wing. He refused to tell anyone anymore about what had happened in his dream. He asked continuously to see Dumbledore, but McGonagall kept telling him it was "impossible". Ron and Hermione returned to their rooms and Harry was left alone. Madam Pomfrey had left a small goblet of purple liquid – Dreamless Sleep Potion – next to his bed, but Harry did not want to drink it.

The pain in his forehead had gone completely now and he no longer felt sick. All that was left was anger. Why would no one listen to him? Where was Dumbledore and why had he not returned to the school? He found himself feeling angry at Dumbledore as well as everyone else.

These questions turned over and over in Harry's head as the sun began to rise outside the window. At some point he found himself thinking about Sirius again. He wanted so much to talk to him about his dream. He would have understood and helped him. He would not have packed him off to the hospital wing like an invalid.

Harry did not go back to sleep at all. He waited until the early morning sun was up in the sky, then he got himself out of bed and headed out of the castle and down to the lake. Part of him wanted to just walk out of the grounds completely; to leave Hogwarts far behind. But he knew he would regret it. So he resolved to just sitting there on his own and letting the weight of his thoughts engulf him completely.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The weekend went past in a kind of blur for Harry.  Usually he really enjoyed weekends at Hogwarts but this time he had so much on his mind that he simply was not himself.  He spent all day just sitting by the lake on his own – which had become a place of retreat for him lately.  Hermione, Ron and even Ginny had attempted at joining him, but he did not feel very sociable and they quickly gave up trying to entice him to talk.  The one person he really wanted to talk to was … well, not around anymore.  Harry wanted more than anything for Sirius to come and sit by him.  He did not necessarily have to talk to him; he just wanted him to be there.  He wanted to feel that comforting presence again.  But he knew it was all in his mind and that he would never really feel it ever again.

Monday morning came around all too soon and Harry found himself sitting silently in the Great Hall watching Ron and Hermione eat breakfast.  Harry was not hungry; in fact, he had not eaten much all weekend.  He was hoping that getting back to classes would take his mind off things again – at least it had done last week.

"Aren't you going to have anything, Harry?" Hermione asked concernedly.

"No thanks," Harry replied quietly.

"You'll need your strength for Whiting's class," Ron grinned.

Harry forced a smile but said nothing.  It was true – Whiting's classes had been extremely active.  Harry did not want to enjoy them because he still disliked Whiting, but it was obvious that everyone else thought he was brilliant.  Well, almost everyone.

"I think Whiting's got a brain the size of an owl dropping," Ginny said casually from the seat next to Hermione.

Hermione rolled her eyes, in much the same way as she did when Ron said something she thought was stupid.

"I don't like him, either," Harry decided he should give Ginny some support.  He figured she had not told anyone else about her argument with Whiting, although he did not know why she was keeping it to herself.  But he had a suspicion that it had something to do with what Whiting had said to her after the class.

"Come on then.  We don't want to be late," Hermione said, gathering her things from the Gryffindor table.

Harry noticed that Hermione had been much more cheery around him since Friday night.  He had intended to talk to her, but now that she was acting like her old self again, he did not know whether he should bring it up at all.

It was no surprise that they were the first ones to reach the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.  The door was open and when Hermione peeped inside, Whiting beckoned them all in.

"It's great to see students so eager to learn," Whiting laughed as the three of them sat down together.  "Especially on a Monday morning!" 

Hermione grinned proudly back at him, but Harry decided to busy himself inside his school bag looking for nothing in particular.

The bell rang and more students began to file slowly inside the classroom.  Whiting began casually checking off the names of the students on his register.  He did not bother to call them out like most teachers, but simply muttered the names to himself as he looked around at the faces in front of him.  Harry noticed that the names on his register ticked themselves off as he said each one.

"OK, we're missing someone," Whiting said, scanning the parchment.  "Malfoy.  Where's Draco Malfoy?"  He looked around expectantly, but no one answered.  "Well, someone must know," he said impatiently.

"I think he went home," Pansy Parkinson replied in a small voice from the back of the room.

"You _think_ he went home?"

"Well, he didn't say," Pansy replied, in an unusually strained voice.  "But he left yesterday and everyone in the common room is saying he had to go home."

Ron started to laugh and had to hide his face behind a book to stifle the sound.  But Harry did not find this news at all funny.  He was intrigued as to why Malfoy would leave the school just one week into the term.  He looked at Hermione who was sitting beside him and she gave him a significant look which told him that she found this news just as interesting.

"Alright."  Whiting flicked his wand and the parchment in front of him vanished.  "Wands away."

The class gave an almighty groan.  'Wands away' had been one of Umbridge's favourite sentences.  It always meant a lesson filled with reading, or in Harry's case, daydreaming.

"And books away," Whiting continued.

The groans rapidly turned into whispers as everyone packed their books back into their bags and wondered what they would be doing in a Defence Against the Dark Arts class with no wands and no books.  Harry, Ron and Hermione did not say anything to each other, but exchanged quizzical looks.

Whiting perched himself on the edge of his desk, facing the class.  "Today we're going to talk about something which will be extremely important on your NEWT exam.  You will not be expected to perform any kind of practical test, but your written paper will almost definitely require you to have a basic understanding of this kind of magic.

"I'm talking about magic which is far more powerful than wands and books.  It's the magic which resides inside all of us.  A wand, in essence, is simply a piece of wood which helps us to channel that magic into charms, hexes, jinxes and curses."  He narrowed his eyes at the class as everyone stared at him intently.  "Can anyone give me an example of a spell which does not require the use of a wand?"

Predictably, Hermione's hand shot into the air so fast that Harry could feel his hair move slightly in its wake.

"Longbottom?" Whiting indicated to Neville who was sitting behind Harry.

Neville looked around nervously.  He had not put his hand up and was obviously searching his brain hastily for an answer.  Neville had never been that good at school.  He had only just managed to scrape through his OWL exams and had only been accepted into a handful of NEWT classes, including this one.

"Um, Potions," he squeaked.

"Well, yes, you are right," Whiting replied.  "But a Potion is not really a spell.  It's simply the art of mixing the correct ingredients in precisely the right way.  While the end product is magical, it does not require a great deal of magic to create.  It is more skill than anything.

"No, what we're going to be looking at are spells such as enchantments and curses that can be performed without the use of a wand.  Now this kind of magic requires a great deal of skill, too.  Many witches and wizards will never use powerful magic such as this in their lives – they will never need to.  But it is important to understand what kind of magical forces exist and how we can use them to our advantage, should the need ever arise."

Whiting began throwing out examples, some of which Harry recognised.  He talked briefly about curses which can be used without a wand, and Harry was reminded of the times he had unwillingly used magic to annoy the Dursleys'.  Whiting also mentioned Occlumency.  He talked about the magic of the mind and how some wizards can see inside your head using Legilimency.  He then explained that he would spend another lesson demonstrating how they could all prevent this using Occlumency.  Then he changed the subject and began talking about magical bonds in families.

But at this point Harry's thoughts drifted away from the lesson.  He began to wonder if Whiting had been planted by Dumbledore.  It seemed like an odd coincidence that he would be talking about the exact things that Harry had experienced.  And it would be just like Dumbledore to appoint someone he thought would be able to teach them what they needed to know.  But the idea of learning Occlumency with Whiting was almost as bad as learning it with Snape, although at least he would be learning along with the rest of the class and not on his own like last year.

"Are you actually listening to me, Potter?"

Harry was shaken out of his thoughts at the mention of his own name.  "Um, yeah," he replied uncertainly.

"As I was saying," Whiting seemed to have moved on to another topic now.  "We must not treat our unconscious as a trivial place.  It is when we are most vulnerable that we learn the most important things about ourselves … and about those around us," he added, looking directly at Harry.

Harry looked away.  He had a horrible feeling that Whiting might be able to read his thoughts when they made eye contact.  The last thing he wanted was another person delving inside his mind.

At long last the lesson ended and Harry, Ron and Hermione made their way back to the common room for a free period before lunch.  Neville walked with them for some of the way, mumbling about how difficult the class had been.  Then he said goodbye and headed outside for his Herbology lesson.

When they reached the common room, Harry threw himself into his usual seat by the fireplace.  Hermione sat down next to him and began pulling her books out of her bag.  Ron slouched into the other seat and kicked his shoes off.

"Your feet stink," Hermione observed, wrinkling her nose.

"I couldn't find any clean socks this morning," Ron grinned, wriggling his toes in front of her face.

"That's disgusting," Hermione shook her head irritably and started gathering her books up again.  "I'm going to the library to study."

"I might come with you," Harry got back out of his chair and swung his bag onto his back.

Ron groaned.  "I don't want to study."

"Then don't," Hermione said angrily.  "I really don't care what you do."  She sniffed audibly and walked away.

Harry stood for a moment.  "You coming?" he asked Ron.

"No," Ron sulked, "I'll stay here and count my cards."  He started shuffling through his collection of Chocolate Frog cards on the small table in front of him.  "You go."

"I'll stay with you," Harry said decisively.

"I said go," Ron snapped.

Harry decided it was best to do as he was told.  When he reached the library, Hermione was sitting on her own in a far corner with her face buried inside a very large leather book.  Harry crossed the room quietly and sat down beside her.

"Why do you and Ron keep fighting?" Harry whispered, pretending to read the book with Hermione.

"It doesn't matter," she replied through gritted teeth.

"It's getting really annoying," Harry confessed.  "Ginny said it's because … well, because you like each other."  He looked at Hermione cautiously.

"Honestly, how stupid," Hermione sighed.  She was chewing unconsciously on her lip as her eyes scanned the tiny words on the over-large page in front of her.

"So," Harry hesitated, and then continued, "why do you always spend so much time at the Weasley's in the summer?  Don't you want to spend any of the holidays with your own parents?"

Hermione closed her book and looked at Harry with a frown on her face.  "Hasn't Ron told you?"

"Told me what?"  Harry had the distinct feeling he was missing something.  He thought Ron told him everything, but now it occurred to him that maybe there were a few things that Ron kept to himself.

Hermione picked up her bag and indicated for Harry to follow her out of the library.  They walked in silence until they reached the doors in the entrance hall and stepped out into the grounds.

"Look, it's not a big deal," Hermione spoke finally.  "I assumed Ron would tell you, but obviously he hasn't."

"Tell me what?" Harry repeated.

"My parents are getting divorced," Hermione replied with very little feeling in her voice.  "They haven't been happy for years."  She sat down under a birch tree and Harry joined her.  "They were always taking me on holidays abroad and trying to create this perfect happy family that didn't really exist."

"When did you find out?" Harry asked.  He could not work out whether Hermione was happy or upset about the situation.  She was hiding her emotions very well.

"Oh, ages ago," she replied.  "It's been building up for a long time.  That's why I haven't been going home most Christmas's and why I spend a lot of the summer with the Weasley's.  I thought it would be better to give them time alone together.  But when I got home this summer my Dad had moved out and Mum told me they were getting a divorce.  I was a bit upset and sent an owl to Ginny to tell her.  Mrs Weasley sent an owl straight back and suggested I go to Grimmauld Place and stay with them for the whole summer."  A small sob caught in Hermione's throat and she stopped talking.

It was then that Harry realised she really was quite upset about her parents and that was probably what had been upsetting her at school.  She obviously thought he knew and probably thought he was really insensitive for not talking to her about it.

"I'm sorry," he said, putting an arm around her.

"It's alright," she said quietly.  "I've got used to the idea now.  It's just made me a bit emotional this year.  I think I've been a bit of a grouch actually.  I keep snapping at Ron for no reason.  And I've been snapping at you, too."

"I hadn't noticed," Harry lied, causing a wide grin to spread across Hermione's face.

"There you are," Ron puffed as he came towards them from the castle.  "I went to the library and you weren't there.  Then I bumped into Nearly-Headless Nick and he told me he saw you walk out here together."  He gave Harry a funny look when he saw that he had his arm around Hermione.  "Have you been crying again?" he asked Hermione.

"Why didn't you tell Harry about my parents?" Hermione asked.

Ron threw himself down on the grass next to Hermione.  "I don't know.  I guess it just never came up," he said innocently.

Hermione grinned at him and put her arm around him, causing him to turn a violent shade of red.

"Let's all stop keeping secrets from each other," she said brightly.  "I want us to tell each other everything from now on."

Harry looked guiltily from Hermione to Ron, then back to Hermione who nodded at him.  "Ron, I need to tell you something," he said slowly.  "It's about the Prophecy – the one which was smashed in the Department of Mysteries…"

Harry felt a huge weight lifted from him when he told Ron about the Prophecy and his conversation with Dumbledore at the end of last term.  It was a relief to know that both of his best friends now knew what had been haunting him all summer.  The relief was so great, in fact, that he decided to continue and tell them both about the vision of Voldemort he had seen in his dream the other night and the conversation he had witnessed between him and Wormtail.

When he had finished pouring out his heart, Hermione squeezed his shoulder extremely tight and said: "Whatever Voldemort is up to, Dumbledore knows about it.  That's why he hasn't been back to the school.  And I'm certain that wherever he is and whatever he's doing, he's doing it to keep you safe, Harry."


	19. Chapter Nineteen

CHAPTER NINETEEN

As Harry and Ron made their way down to the Quidditch pitch that evening, Harry could feel his heart racing inside his chest. He felt a familiar sense of inadequacy – as if he was going to let everyone down and, most of all, he would disappoint his friends who all seemed to think he would be the one to hold up Gryffindor's continued success on the Quidditch pitch. Gryffindor had won the Quidditch Cup the last two times that the tournament had been held. He did not want to let his house down but he had no idea how he was going to lead them to victory again.

At least the weather was in his favour. It was warm, with a slight breeze which would help them all to stay focused. Harry had spent most of the day thinking about Quidditch. He and Ginny had talked about it after Potions today and she had asked if she could switch from Seeker to Chaser. This suited Harry perfectly because he had hoped to take back his Seeker position. This would mean that there was only one Chaser position left to fill. Harry had already made arrangements with McGonagall to book the pitch for Friday evening for the try-outs.

Harry and Ron reached the changing rooms early and Ron helped him to set up the equipment.

"Have you heard from you parents?" Harry asked Ron in an attempt to take his mind off the impending Quidditch practice.

"No," Ron said casually. "Ginny writes to Mum every week and she'd tell me if there's any news."

Harry thought it was strange that everything that had happened less than two weeks ago had just been pushed aside. Ron never seemed to want to talk about it and there had been nothing in the Daily Prophet. It was as though everyone was pretending it had never happened. Harry had at least expected some news from Hagrid about what the Order were doing, but Hagrid was keeping extremely quiet about the situation, too.

The other members of the team started to arrive and Harry was forced to push his thoughts to the back of his mind for now.

The practice went much better than Harry had expected. Ginny was a very talented Chaser and worked well with Katie Bell, the other Chaser. Jack Sloper and Andrew Kirke, the Beaters, had improved slightly over the summer. They were no where near as good as Fred and George Weasley had been, but there was definitely potential. Ron had sulked a bit when Harry insisted he remain Keeper. Ron had not been very good when he had been accepted into the position last year, but he had improved immensely. Harry did not want to start shifting him around different positions. He felt it would be better for him if he continued to concentrate on his Keeper position.

As for Harry himself, well he felt he could not have been better. Despite the fact that he had not been on a broomstick for months, the moment he mounted his Firebolt he felt the most confident he had been for a very long time. Flying was as natural to Harry as breathing. And as he soared across the Quidditch pitch, watching his fellow housemates follow his instructions, he did not think he could ever be happier.

When they entered the common room later that evening, Harry, Ron and Ginny were exhausted. Still in their Quidditch robes, they threw themselves into the armchairs by the fireplace with a chorus of sighs.

"How was Quidditch practice?" Hermione looked at the three of them over the top of her book.

"Tiring," Ron sighed again.

"How was it, Harry?" she directed the same question directly at him and he knew what she meant.

"It was great," Harry smiled briefly, but he was too tired to hold it for very long.

Hermione smiled back and returned to her book.

* * *

Harry felt like he was walking on air for the next few days. Hermione had started asking when they would begin the DA meetings again, but all Harry cared about at the moment was Quidditch. He had brushed her off by saying that they would sort something out next week. The only thing he wanted to think about right now was Friday night and the trials for the new Chaser.

"Are you listening, Potter?"

Harry looked up to see Professor Whiting staring down at him.

"Um, yes, sir," he mumbled in reply. Harry was beginning to make a habit of daydreaming during his Defence Against the Dark Arts classes. Whiting spent a lot of time talking and Harry found him extremely boring.

"Alright, I think we'll have you as our first volunteer." Whiting beckoned Harry to follow him to the front of the class.

"Volunteer for what?" Harry whispered desperately to Hermione.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "Occlumency, you idiot," she hissed.

Harry was stricken. There was no way he was going to volunteer to let Whiting read his mind.

"I can't, sir," he said quickly. "Um, I, er, don't feel well." He made an unconvincing attempt at looking sick.

"Don't be ridiculous," Whiting laughed. "Now come on." He beckoned again for Harry to go to the front of the class.

Harry looked around. Every eye was on him. He looked desperately at Hermione again who gave him one of her knowing looks.

"Sir, I really don't think it would be a good idea," Hermione spoke confidently.

Whiting laughed. "Why not?"

"Because, er …" Hermione's confidence faded rapidly. "Because …"

"Get up here or I'll give you both detention," Whiting demanded at Harry.

There was no way Harry could risk detention with the try-outs on Friday. Without looking at Ron or Hermione, he got reluctantly to his feet and walked to the front of the class.

"Right then," Whiting smiled. "This is quite simple. I will attempt to break into your mind. Like I was saying before, the best way to stop someone reading your mind is to stop thinking. You need to clear your mind of all thought and emotion. Later in the term I will teach you ways of fighting the intruder off. But for now, all I want you to do is protect yourself by emptying your mind. Understand, Harry?"

"Yes," Harry replied coldly. He wondered if Whiting knew that he had done this before. Probably not. Whiting was far too self-obsessed to know anything about Harry's past.

"Ok, clear your mind."

Harry was so busy thinking hateful things about Whiting that he had forgotten how bad he was at clearing his mind. He was not ready for this. He tried to say so, but before he had a chance Whiting had said:

"_Legilimens!_"

The classroom dissolved around him and Harry could see images from his memory playing across his vision like an absurd moving photo album of his life. He tried desperately to clear his mind and make the images go away, but the more he tried, the faster they came. Some were stupid memories of his childhood; Uncle Vernon shouting at him; Dudley punching him in the stomach; Aunt Petunia scowling at him. But these soon became more recent memories; he was standing in front of a man with two faces; he was being chased by a giant snake; he was watching hundreds of black-hooded creatures float towards him; he was in a graveyard full of dark cloaked men; he was watching someone he loved fall to his death through a veil; he was surrounded by darkness in a small stone room.

"STOP IT!" he screamed.

He opened his eyes to find he had fallen backwards over Whiting's desk. His head hurt and his face was wet. He could feel the blood boiling in his face as he realised that the whole class was watching him. Some looked scared, others were enthralled.

Whiting was grinning as he held a hand out to Harry to help him up. Harry refused the hand and heaved himself up by holding onto the desk.

"Thank you, Harry," Whiting said as Harry made his way back to his seat. "That was a perfect demonstration of how _not_ to do it."

Harry slumped into the chair feeling cold and shaky. Part of him wanted to just walk out of the class, but he needed this subject if he wanted any chance of becoming an Auror.

"Who's next?" Whiting asked.

"I'll have a go."

To Harry's surprise Ron had already left his seat. Harry grabbed his sleeve. "Don't, he urged him.

Ron shook him off. "I want to try it."

Harry looked to Hermione again but she just shook her head. She laid a hand on Harry's arm and whispered, "Let him go. He needs to experience these things for himself."

Harry gave in reluctantly. He had only this year begun to realise how much he had sheltered Ron from things in the past. Hermione was right. She was always right.

They both watched nervously as Ron stood at the front of the class, a look of deep concentration on his face.

"_Legilimens!_" Whiting repeated.

It was strange to see it happening to someone else and Harry could not help feeling intrigued. Whiting was staring avidly at Ron, but Ron had his eyes squeezed shut. His face was contorted into an odd shape and he kept stumbling backwards. After about a minute Ron dropped to his knees and exhaled a frustrated groan.

"Very good, Weasley," Whiting looked impressed as he helped Ron back onto his feet.

"D-did you s-see what I s-saw," Ron stammered as he tried to straighten himself.

"Bits of it," Whiting replied. "But you did an excellent job of blocking me out. Not bad at all for a first time."

Ron returned to his seat with a triumphant look on his face. "That wasn't so bad," he whispered to Harry.

But Harry ignored him.


	20. Apology

I just want to apologise for the huge delay in my writing. I am currently 17 weeks pregnant and am working a lot before I leave for good to be a mum!

I am still writing but haven't written anything worth reading for a while. My inspiration and imagination just aren't there at the moment. I'm really and truly sorry to everyone who has stuck by my stories for so long. I really hope to provide you with more in the very near future. Just give me a bit of time to get used to the idea of becoming a mum (hey, I'm pregnant along side JKR - my inspiration!). I'll be back!

In the meantime, I have a very dear friend who writes beautiful stories. Please go to www. portkey. org (without the spaces) and check out the author 'Rosali'.


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